Making Spirits Bright
by AnthroQueen
Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year!
1. on the first day of christmas

**Well hi! Remember when I was all sappy and dramatic upon the end of "When Skies are Grey" and I was all, "Eh, idk if I'll write them again," etc. etc.? Well that was short-lived, wasn't it? LOL. If anyone is curious, I spent November writing for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and I won which felt amazing and it was also really refreshing to write something that was from my own creation and it was generally nice to just not write Spoby for a bit. But alas, I can't quit these two no matter how hard I try (seriously, I'm trying).**

 **Anyway, I had an idea to write a little collection of holiday time vignettes for Christmas and so that's what I've been doing! The goal is to update with one of these little oneshots everyday until Christmas, but we'll see if I can actually get that done. That's what I'm hoping for, but who knows if real life will get in the way? Anyway, each little story is in its own universe; therefore, they are not connected in any way, shape or form. They are, however, themed around a different Christmas song each chapter and since we're doing a "Twelve Days of Christmas" theme, I started with, what else? "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I hope you enjoy!**

 **(Actually, fun fact: t** **he twelve days in the song are the twelve days starting with Christmas Day, or in some traditions, the day after Christmas (December 26th, Boxing Day), to the day before Epiphany, (January 6th), formerly the last day of the Christmas festivities and observed as a time of merriment, but like... Who wants to read a Christmas story _after_ Christmas, am I right? So that's why I'm posting now because I'm Christmas af. Okay love you all bye).  
**

* * *

on the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

New York at Christmas time is absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful; the subject of many a Christmas movie, carol and even a headlining number in the Radio City Christmas Spectacular.

Unfortunately for Spencer Hastings, New York at Christmas time is also bone-chillingly freezing.

She's beginning to regret this morning run; maybe not the physical act itself, though. Running's always been her escape, a way to clear her mind and ease her stress and anxieties, and she's been _so_ busy and _so_ stressed out lately, she really, really needed this. She'd awoken nearly an hour ago, restless, and though today is her one day off this week, that had brought her nothing but dread upon the realization of all the tasks she still had to accomplish. Therefore, instead of jumping right into it, she'd decided to take the morning to herself and the run, so far, has been great; her heart pounding against her ribcage, icy air in her lungs, feet treading on the sleepy streets outside their apartment- that's all been awesome. But her fingers are numb and her eyelashes are frozen and the second she turns back onto 116th and Broadway, it starts to snow.

She has terrible timing, honestly.

One quick glance at the Columbia campus makes her dread and anxiety come flooding back into her veins. College, honestly, is no joke; five years ago, when she'd started undergrad in Georgetown, her very first professor for her very first class had greeted them by saying, "Welcome to your undergraduate years. Some of you will shine bright and some of you will fade and not make it out. Let the blood bath begin." It had incited a round of nervous laughter amongst them but the weeks went by and Spencer watched as more and more of her classmates dropped the class or left the school altogether, as she was struggling to balance her own coursework, internships and personal life so that she would not be one of them. Now, she's prepping for her final semester of graduate school and the work has gotten harder and the professors have gotten more grueling, but nothing else has changed.

She's shivering violently by the time their apartment comes into sight and she decides to stop at her regular Starbucks for a pick me up. It's nearing eight a.m. and if she hurries, she can catch Toby before he leaves for work; she makes a mental note of this and hastens her pace. It hasn't always been easy for them; college and the distance and all that. He hadn't followed her to Washington when she'd moved away for undergrad and they'd both been miserable the entire four years. He visited her when he found the chance, but she only came home for holidays and spent more time with him than her family when she did. They'd argued _a lot_ ; at times, it seemed they'd never recover. But if they'd learned anything from their teenage years, it's that communication is key, and as difficult as it was sometimes, they eventually found a way to convey their thoughts and feelings to one another with minimal damage. She'd been accepted into Columbia for her graduate degree upon her graduation from Georgetown, he'd enrolled in a few architecture classes at a CUNY school not much further and found a job with a local firm, and they'd solved their distance problem at once.

Taking time to defrost, Spencer places her order with the cashier and steps aside to wait for her milk of the Gods. Her relationship with caffeine is the longest one she's had in her life, Toby and her friends included. She's honestly not sure how she'd survive without it. Starbucks is surprisingly empty this morning, save for a man at the counter taking six years to order a simple espresso and a woman at the counter by the window, typing away furiously on her laptop. Spencer takes the time to wrap her headphones carefully around her iPod and tuck it into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, pulling the zipper up a little higher the moment a fourth patron opens the door and a blast of chilly air runs up her spine. She glances out the frosted windows and notes the snow has begun to stick to the sidewalks and dirty streets of the city. Fantastic. This ought to make her commute home an interesting one.

"Hey! Congratulations!"

Her head snaps in the direction of the barista, an excitable, teenage morning-person, and Spencer must give her a strange look, because she adds, "Sorry, you just come in here all the time and I don't think I noticed it before."

Glancing down, Spencer realizes her left hand is still clutching the collar of her sweatshirt and her brand new engagement ring is twinkling in the early morning sunlight. "Oh, no, that's okay. Thank you."

"When's the big day?"

"Haven't really thought about it yet. It was recent." And it was, really. She'd surprised him, on their anniversary back in November, with an impossible-to-get dinner reservation at their favorite restaurant and he'd, in turn, surprised her with the ring. And if this barista remembers her- which means she has a problem- but doesn't remember the ring, she can't have come in here since getting engaged back in November. So maybe her problem isn't _that_ bad.

"Well, congratulations again," She grins, handing over her travel carton with the two coffees steaming inside. "And merry Christmas!"

Again, Spencer balks. "What?"

"Oh, sorry, do you not celebrate?" She then falters. "Happy holidays. I didn't mean for that to be offensive or anything. First the whole cup thing and then-"

Spencer stops listening and instead focuses on the calendar behind the young girl's head. "Oh my god. It's December thirteenth?"

"Um," The girl bites her lip. "Well, yeah."

"Christmas is in twelve days?" Spencer asks and when, again, the girl nods, she repeats, "Christmas is in _twelve days?!_ "

Christmas is, indeed, in twelve days and Spencer has yet to buy her fiancé- or anyone else, for that matter- a single thing.

Talk about dropping the ball; she's practically thrown it. She's never forgotten before; usually, she's so on top of her shit that it leaves other people in awe and probably in mild, if not moderate, annoyance. She supposes, on the slippery walk home, that she should just add this to her massive list of things she needs to do today and she laments the time when a day off from work and school meant sitting on the couch with Netflix, cocoa and a blanket. But then again, she's not sure she'd do that anyway; she's much too much of a go-getter, a hands-on hard worker, and even with absolutely nothing on her plate, she's pretty sure she'd find something to do. Once she's in the elevator, she pulls her phone out and texts her parents and her sister first, asking each what they'd like for Christmas. Melissa responds immediately, with two laughing emojis and a simple message reading:

 _NOW you ask?!_

Okay. So Melissa's getting nothing. That makes her load a little lighter.

She tosses her apartment key onto the table by the door and sits upon the couch, gently unlacing her sneakers with bright red fingers. Gloves. She needs to invest in gloves for the next time she attempts to run through the streets of Antarctica. Luckily for her, their apartment is always warm to the point where sometimes, it can be excruciating. Over the summer, she'd described it to Toby as being suffocated slowly by a hug and he'd laughed himself off the couch before telling her that she was the strangest and most adorable human being he's ever known. She's not sure, even now, if that's a good thing or not. She does, however, hear the shower switch off and suddenly her insides grow warm and fuzzy and she pads softly into the bedroom, both of their coffees in tow (though, honestly, hers is already mostly gone).

"Morning," He grins and bends to kiss her. She ducks out of the way before he can reach her.

"I'm kind of sweaty," She laments and he smirks and kisses her anyway.

"I think I can handle it." He says and asks, "How was your run?"

"Cold," She says simply. "I got you a coffee."

"You did?" He jokes, accepting the steaming cup she offers him and taking his first sip. "Huh. I just thought you'd decided one wasn't enough for you and I was, honestly, surprised it took you this long."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Thank you," Toby smiles, all joking aside. "I'm going to need it. It was not easy getting out of bed this morning."

She wishes she shared his sentiment. Instead, she sits upon the bed and watches as he pulls on a red shirt and towel dries his hair. "Did you know Christmas is in twelve days?"

"Yeah, that's the weird thing about Christmas," Toby says, locking eyes with her through the mirror. "Kind of an annual thing, you know? Comes the same day every year."

"Ha ha," She rolls her eyes. "I guess I just I didn't realize it was already the thirteenth."

"You've been busy," Toby reasons. "You've had _a lot_ on your mind lately. Not to mention you haven't been sleeping well and you are tense as _hell_."

"Yeah, well according to you, I'm always tense as hell."

"And according to you, you were born that way."

Spencer considers this before asking, "Do you ever think we know each other too well?"

"Yeah, all the time," Toby agrees and they share a laugh. "Look, it's going to calm down a bit now that the semester is over. You just have that one book to read, right, and that paper for your Capstone class?"

"Yeah, but that book is six hundred and twenty pages and it's boring as _hell_ ," Spencer groans. "And I haven't even started research for the paper."

"But you will," Toby tells her. "And then it'll be over. And we can enjoy the holidays even though we have to go back to Rosewood to do it."

"Don't remind me," Spencer shakes her head. "When do you think we'll be able to stop celebrating Christmas with them?"

"Um, considering they're your parents?" Toby suggests. "Probably never."

He turns towards the bathroom again to brush his teeth and Spencer picks at her sweatpants before admitting, "I haven't started my Christmas shopping yet."

"You haven't _what?_ " He exclaims, spitting toothpaste into the sink. "You haven't _finished_ right? That's what you meant?"

"I _wish_ that's what I meant," Spencer frowns. "I completely forgot about Christmas until today."

"Oh my god. I need to sit down for this one." He teases and she shoots him a look. "No, seriously! Have you ever forgotten _anything_ before? Have you ever been behind in your life?"

"You are seriously not making me feel any better about this."

"I'm joking. You _know_ I'm joking," Toby replies, taking her free hand into his. "You're human, Spencer; a really, really busy one at that. And humans forget things. It's okay that Christmas wasn't at the forefront of your mind and wasn't your top priority. Honestly, unless you're Emily, it probably won't ever be."

"I have never met anyone who loves Christmas more than that girl," Spencer agrees and Toby grins.

"See? It's fine. It's okay," He assures her. "Look, you're probably not the only one. And it's not _that_ last minute; I mean, you could've realized this on Christmas Eve, right? And then you would've been _really_ screwed."

"And not even in the fun way," She frowns and he chuckles. "But you're probably done, right? You'll make me look like an amateur."

"I still need to pick up a couple things for our friends," Toby disagrees. "So I'm not completely finished. I got my parents a couple of things and a polite Christmas card for Jenna, as usual. I even picked something out for your parents because, oddly enough, they've always been nicer to me and more accessible than mine."

"Oh my god," She groans. "You're a better child to them than I am, their _actual_ child."

"I am not," He shakes his head. "That's ridiculous."

"And me?" Spencer wonders. "I'm afraid to even ask what you've got planned for me."

"Actually," Toby grins and stands, reaching for the drawer to his nightstand. "I'm glad you asked because it _is_ December thirteenth which means it's exactly twelve days until Christmas and I need to give you part one of your gift."

"Part _one_?" Spencer exclaims. "Your gift doesn't even exist yet and mine has multiple parts?"

"You don't have to get me anything," Toby insists and hands her a small wrapped package. "Really, you don't, especially if it's only going to add more stress to your shoulders."

"But I want to," She tells him. "And it's our first Christmas as a betrothed couple. We need to commemorate that."

"Betrothed. Right," Toby chuckles. "Because we live in eighteenth-century England."

She purses her lips. "So what is this?"

"Well, open it and find out," He urges and she does as she's asked, carefully tearing away the cheerful green paper, snowmen and reindeer parting right down the middle.

It's a beautiful glass jar, corked like a wine glass, with tiny scrolls of paper, individually wrapped in red ribbon, inside. Her eyes widen with intrigue and before she can even ask, Toby begins to explain. "I've had your actual gift since after your birthday. That's part two. But you've been so insanely busy with school and with work and I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've seen you longer than twenty minutes since our anniversary. It's not your fault and I know you've been beyond stressed with everything that's been happening and your anxiety's back in full swing and it's been killing me to watch you suffer with all of this everyday. And now the holidays are here and they're only going to add even more pressure to your already very stressful life, so I tried to come up with something that could maybe ease it up a little bit."

"But I didn't know what to get you that would serve as a permanent fix," Toby continues. "I've heard essential oils are good for stress and anxiety, but I don't actually know anything about it and it was kind of intimidating. Aromatherapy is something Hanna had suggested, but I remember how skeptical you were of that and I don't really think breathing chemicals is the answer. Massages and the spa and all of that were just temporary so… I thought maybe if you just had a little bit of encouragement, a daily reminder that you're the most amazing person I know, that it might make life a little easier to handle until things calmed down a bit. And I was inspired by the season, too."

Spencer's completely awestruck. This is easily the nicest and cutest thing anyone's ever done for her. Toby uncorks the jar and reaches in until he produces the scroll he's looking for. He hands it to her almost sheepishly and says, "So… This is day one. Each one of these slips of paper has something on it that I love about you. I just wanted it to be a sort of reminder that even though things are hard right now, they won't always be, and that you'll get through it like you get through everything; that I love and believe in you."

"I literally don't even know what to say to you right now," Spencer shakes her head, pulling him closer and peppering him with kisses. "How are you still the sweetest, most incredible man on this planet?"

"Because I'm lucky enough to be in love with the smartest, most amazing woman on this planet," Toby grins and gestures toward the first scroll. "Here. Open it."

There's a little number one next to a hand-drawn bird perched in a fruit tree. She beams and asks, "Is that…?"

"A partridge in a pear tree? Yeah," Toby says. "You know, like the song?"

"Yeah of course," She nods and carefully removes the red ribbon, unrolling the slip of paper.

 _1- Your unwillingness to surrender, give up or give in, even with seemingly impossible odds and especially when that opponent you're facing is –A. Your incredible resilience never ceases to amaze me and I love how far you will go, how much you will fight, for the end result even when it sometimes feels like there's no end in sight._

"You love that about me?" She wonders. "You aren't annoyed by me constantly pursuing something I should probably let go instead of fighting the tireless fight?"

"Of course not," Toby disagrees. "It's one of my favorite things about you. Your tenacity has always astounded me."

Spencer shrugs. "Some might think it's abrasive."

"Well, they don't know you like I do."

She smiles and he does too, asking, "Did that help? Do you feel a little better?"

"Of course," Spencer tells him and kisses him lovingly. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"I have to go to work," He laments, betraying his own words by kissing her again, a bit deeper. "But you get some work done and when I get back, we can order in, drink some alcohol and watch a Christmas movie. Sound good?"

"That sounds amazing," Spencer says and frowns a bit when he places one last longing kiss on her lips before departing. "You sure we can't start that right now?"

"It's barely eight-thirty; we shouldn't be drinking," He chuckles. "And we both have things to do. The anticipation will make it even better though, don't you think?"

She nods and eyes the jar with the rest of Toby's notes as he steps out of the room to tug on his winter coat. Minutes later, he ducks his head back in to say, "I love you. Don't open the rest of those."

It's like he reads her mind sometimes, honestly, and it's never any less infuriating. "I wasn't going to!"

He shoots her a look like he knows the opposite is true. "One a day, like a vitamin."

"I wasn't even going to look at it," She shakes her head. "Look, I'm going to put it right here, on the dresser, so I remember to open one everyday."

He smirks. "Okay."

"Okay? You've got to have more faith in me, Toby," Spencer says. "I have more self control than you think I do."

Again, he shoots her a pointed look and she says, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You thought it!" She exclaims and pushes him out of the doorway. "Go to work. You're distracting me. I have things to do."

He chuckles. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Have a good day," She wishes and he sends her the same. The door closes behind him and there is silence.

And that jar is just sitting there in her bedroom. It's almost like it's _staring_ at her.

"Okay, well I won't be getting any work done in here," She says to no one and heads into the bathroom for a shower. Once she's clean and dried and dressed, she'll be ready for a productive day of schoolwork and online shopping.

But the jar. The jar is still there, waiting for her.

"It's not going to hurt me to read just _one,_ is it?" She asks the empty apartment and she takes the silence as a no.

The next tiny scroll has a number two and two tiny turtledoves. Honestly, if Toby didn't have his heart set on becoming an architect- and if artists made _any_ money at all- he could easily make millions. He's the most artistic person she's ever known.

 _2- Your compassion, care and understanding. I've never known anyone who's so open and inviting when others come to you with their problems. You're always there for everyone you care about and you help everyone by going out of your way to do anything you can._

She grins and hastily rolls it a second time and re-ties the red ribbon around its center. Toby will _never_ know. And two is enough for her, really. She doesn't need to open another one.

Heading for the kitchen, she cracks open the terribly long book she's doomed to read with one hand and scrambles eggs with the other. It's incredibly boring and she's ready for a nap by the end of the first chapter. She makes a pretty good dent in it by the time she's finished eating- okay, not really, but eighty-seven pages is better than nothing- and she decides she'd rather finish the paper and get that out of the way before continuing. She makes a pact with herself; for every useful piece of information she finds for her term paper, she'll read another fifty pages of that awful book glaring judgingly at her from the other side of the couch. This process takes her all the way through noon and she starts to go stir crazy, thinking she'll never see the other side of this. She begins to think she'll never be finished; this paper and horrible book will taunt her for the rest of her life.

It's how she talks herself into picking out the next slip of paper.

Scroll number three has three French hens and just as she'd been wondering how French hens differed from regular ones, he'd been sure to rectify this by drawing them with berets and tiny French flags. She chuckles. He's too witty for his own good sometimes.

 _3- Your thirst for adventure. We're broke as hell right now and won't be leaving this apartment anytime soon. But someday when we have real jobs that pay real money, we're going to go to all of those places you and I have dreamed about visiting. But you're so creative, we don't even have to leave the city. Everyday with you is an adventure_.

This makes her chuckle. Their life together can be so boring, so _mundane_ , sometimes that she really does try her best to make the smallest things interesting. She rolls the paper, ties the ribbon and stuffs it back into the jar, mildly satisfied but also _slightly_ hating herself just a little bit. Didn't Toby say, this morning before he'd left, that she wouldn't have any self-control? And hadn't she promised him the opposite? It's one of those annoying couple clichés she absolutely hates; he knows her better than she knows herself. Scowling, she stuffs the jar in her sock drawer out of sight and half mad at him and half mad at herself, she returns to the living room and types furiously, determined to finish her Capstone paper before she does anything else.

She writes a killer introduction. And then stops.

"Alright, fuck it," Spencer grumbles and returns to their bedroom. "I'm not going to be able to focus until I read all of these. Why am I kidding myself?"

 _4- Your touch. I can't even begin to explain to you how comforting it is to me. Just holding your hand eases any nerves I may have and chases all my troubles away. Hugging you feels like coming home._

 _5- Your beauty, both inside and out. You'd have to be blind not to notice how breathtakingly gorgeous you are, regardless of time of day (first thing in the morning is my personal favorite) or what you're wearing (or not wearing…). But you're a beautiful person, too, and I am so lucky to know you._

 _6- Your love and support. I don't know how I would've gotten through these past years without you (well, I wouldn't have, let's be honest). Your unconditional love and support has gotten me through some of the hardest times of my life and I am so grateful for everything you've given me._

 _7- Your heart. You care and love so much for everyone you love and it always amazes me, especially with those who have certainly tested their limits (myself included). I am honored to be on the receiving end of your unreserved love._

 _8- Your talents. I used to joke about how there isn't anything you can't do, but over the past few years, I've actually come to find that's true. It's incredible. Not to mention it's pretty badass. Watching you excel at something is both completely unsurprising and wildly amusing._

 _9- Your brain. Holy hell, I could never compete with your brain. I'm not sure anyone ever could. But it's awesome. Sometimes I like to watch you work, because I feel like I can actually see the moment when you formulate an answer or come up with a solution and it's a beautiful thing. You're the most intelligent person I know._

 _10- Your hard working nature. You always give two hundred percent in everything you do, regardless of how easy or difficult the task is and regardless of how exhausted or stressed you are when beginning it. Sometimes it borders on unhealthy, but for the most part it leaves me awestruck._

 _11- Your trustworthiness. We all know how much your friends relied on you when you were younger and you always took their words to heart. You and I are the same way. I know it ended up being unnecessarily isolating, but with that whole drama with –A and my mom… I can't imagine going through that with anyone but you. I know I can come to you with anything and I hope you feel the same way about me._

 _12- Your friendship. You are my best friend and you have been since day one. And how lucky am I to be in love with my best friend? I love how much and how easily you and I weave in and out of the cheesy, romantic stuff and the teasing, sidesplitting laughter. Our inside jokes, countless hilarious memories together and ability to (finally) tell each other everything, good and bad, will live with me forever. You are wonderful. Our love is wonderful and I'm so grateful for it every single day._

Well damn. Now she _really_ can't focus.

How is it possible that Toby continuously does this to her? How is it possible that now, eight years later, he _still_ manages to make her heart skip a beat and leave butterflies in her stomach and all those other romantic clichés they both hate? And most importantly, how is that she's so _damn_ lucky that she's gets him not only now, not only the last eight years, but for the rest of her life? She folds each one carefully and ties each ribbon into a perfect little bow and sets the jar, corked, back onto her dresser where he'd last seen it. She's not sure how to answer any of the questions she's just asked herself, but she _is_ sure that she has the most fantastic, selfless, caring, loving and perfect future husband in the entire world.

She finishes her paper somewhat distractedly and it's complete shit and she knows she'll have to rewrite chunks before the final deadline tomorrow. By the end of the day, she has only two hundred and forty pages left in the awful book and she's purchased Christmas gifts for her best friends and her parents (Jason's impossible to shop for and she stands by her previous vow; Melissa's getting nothing). Toby, however, she's stumped on. How can she possibly compete with what he's given her? What can she possibly give to the man who gives her so much? She doesn't understand what it is about this year that's completely thrown her off her game. She's usually so good at this and especially with Toby. She _knows_ Toby. She always knows what he wants and needs before even he does. So why is this year challenging that? Perhaps it's the stress and schoolwork (she's been so, _so_ busy…), perhaps it's the lack of real sleep (she doesn't remember much, these days), or perhaps it's the surplus of caffeine (maybe not this one; coffee would never betray her like this), but she's pretty sure she's losing it.

She reads each one of his little scrolls once more and is pretty sure this is going to be her new crutch.

His key turns in the door a little after five thirty. Spencer's staring aimlessly at the wall in front of her, lost in thought. Her laptop is open and glowing blue on her lap and she's twisting a pen back and forth between her teeth absentmindedly. Toby chuckles at the sight of her, saying, "There's my working girl. How did we do today?"

"Finished the paper. Almost made it through the book," Spencer shrugs, shoving the laptop away from her and standing to greet him with a kiss. "Got _some_ presents out of the way. We're making progress."

"See? And you thought you'd never catch up," He grins and from beneath his coat, he produces a bag of takeout and her eyes light up at the sight. "As promised, I brought us dumplings and fried rice."

"And as _I_ promised, I didn't start drinking without you despite the temptation," She grins and turns towards the kitchen to grab them each glasses, plates and the star of the show, the alcohol. "I think _The Santa Clause_ is on tonight."

"Ugh," Toby groans, beginning to unpack their food as Spencer flips through the channels. "That dumb Tim Allen movie?"

"Um, Tim Allen is a national treasure and so is that movie," She shakes her head. "Besides, anything's better than any of those creepy clay-mation specials."

"Are you kidding? Rudolph? _The Year without a Santa Claus_? _Santa Claus is Coming to Town_?" Toby exclaims. "The classics?"

"They're _creepy_ ," She repeats and then chuckles. "Do we agree on anything?"

He thinks a moment before saying, "We both love _White Christmas_."

"Who doesn't?"

"And _Elf_. We both hate _Elf_."

"Ugh, true," Spencer nods. "Because Will Ferrell's never been funny _or_ made a decent movie in his life."

"Brutally honest," Toby grins. "Another thing I love about you."

Spencer bites her lip and nods, conveniently taking a bite of rice so as not to be able to speak. He eyes her a bit closely and adds, "You know, to add onto the other twelve I gave you today, wrapped in ribbon, in the jar?"

"Sure."

Toby smirks. "You read all of them."

"I didn't!"

"You definitely did."

"I did not," Spencer shakes her head, but her resolve is certainly crumbling and she's always been powerless around him anyway. "I… Okay, I did. I did because how could I not? How could you expect me to just let them _sit_ there without being read? It was so distracting, I couldn't focus on my work and… and… See, it's your fault, really."

"It really is," He agrees. "I've always known you have zero self-control. How dumb of me to think you could handle yourself under the pressure of a daily surprise."

She chuckles but upon the realization of how _ridiculous_ that sounds, it turns into a groan. "I ruined the surprise because I wanted to know what you wrote. And your drawings were so cute and so good. And now I have no idea how I'm going to compete with that. How do I even come up with something that clever and sentimental? Where do I even begin?"

"Newsflash, Hastings- not everything's a competition," Toby says and she frowns. It's sad she needs this constant reminder, honestly. "I already told you that you don't have to get me anything. But if you feel the need to, you know I'm going to love it no matter what. It's going to be clever and sentimental no matter _what_ it is because _you_ gave it to me. So take a deep breath, relax and eat your fortune cookie."

She chuckles and cracks her right down the center just as he does. "I don't even have to read it. My fortunes are so good right now."

"Yours will most likely detail your bright future," Toby suggests. "And how you'll live a long and happy life surrounded by people who love you."

"That sounds nice," Spencer nods. "Yours _definitely_ reads that you are the best fiancé a girl could ever ask for and that you are getting so, so incredibly lucky tonight."

He chuckles. "How is that different from any other night?"

Well. He's not wrong, there. She laughs too and brings him in for a kiss, and when they're through he nuzzles their noses together, saying, "It was hard, you know. Limiting myself to only twelve. I could go on and on."

"I'll bet," Spencer nods. "You're braver than I am. I'd run out of paper if I tried to list all the reasons I love you."

He kisses her again and then pulls back to ask, "Are we the most sickeningly-cute couple yet or what?"

"Yeah, we're disgusting," She agrees, standing and tugging on his hand. "Come on."

They're kissing before they've even properly made it to the bedroom, but she pauses in the doorway to be sure he knows, "I didn't even thank you, did I? I didn't even thank you for doing what you did for me."

"You don't have to," He assures her. "I know you loved it. I know you appreciated it."

"But do you know how much?" She wonders. "No one's ever done anything like that for me before. I honestly don't think I can ever thank you enough."

"Well, you're welcome. You deserve it," He grins and they're kissing once more.

They fall upon the bed and he begins kissing down her neck and very slowly removing her sweater. She bites her lip and wonders, "But what do _you_ deserve, though, in return? Should I make my own list? Twelve reasons why I love you?"

"You don't have to do that."

"You're right. I'd _never_ be able to stop listing if I started," She sighs. "Maybe I'll go through the song and actually buy you everything the true love buys the singer."

"That's excessive."

"No, it could be great," Spencer says. "Think about it. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves… Ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking…"

"What are we going to do with all of that poultry?" He asks and she chuckles. "And you can't legally purchase people, Spencer. I'm not bailing you out for human trafficking."

"Well, sorry for trying to figure out what to get you for Christmas!"

"I'm sure you can think of something."

And she does. They're in the zealous afterglow of their second round of lovemaking when the idea hits her and she can't keep the grin off of her face.

Okay. December thirteenth or not, she's still got it.

… _and a partridge in a pear tree!_


	2. i just want you here tonight

**Good morning everyone! Thank you so much for your marvelous response! I was so relieved to receive your kind words of welcome and encouragement; it's always nice to know you aren't sick of me yet, even if I'm sick of myself. :P So today's chapter takes us back to the one, the only, "How the -A Stole Christmas," or 5x13. I know- no one wanted to go back there. It was a terrible episode with cringe-worthy moments and dialogue that we will never be able erase from our memories, unfortunately. But I wanted to write something after watching it then and never did. I figured here was the perfect place to do it. :D**

 **Going along with the Christmas song theme, this chapter is themed after "All I Want for Christmas is You." I, personally, think this song is so tired and overplayed, but it's a Christmas classic, so how could I not use it, right? Cool. Hope you enjoy and have a wonderful day! :)**

* * *

I just want you here tonight, holding onto me so tight

He breaks his leg, misses his graduation from the academy, spends all night tossing and turning in a creaky hospital bed and not sleeping a single second, and Spencer gets falsely arrested for murder right in front of him ( _I'm so tired of feeling like this. Feeling like what? Powerless._ ).

All in all, _not_ a great way to kick off the holiday season.

Toby had literally sat there, paralyzed with shock and confined by the ten pounds of plaster encasing his left leg, as the policemen- _his colleagues_ \- had carted his innocent girlfriend off, tucked her into the back of the patrol car and drove away with lights flashing as if she were some kind of _criminal_. He doesn't have even the faintest idea of what to do about it. Hanna is still shouting expletives at their retreating backs and Emily is using the phone behind the counter to call Spencer's parents and Aria is more like him, honestly; she stands there, eyes wider than he'd ever seen, as if she can't possibly believe what has just happened. Above his head, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade traipses through the streets of New York City as if the world hasn't just fallen apart, as if all their holiday plans haven't just gone out the window, as if horrible, painful memories of his own time in a juvenile detention center aren't currently plaguing his mind ( _I've got friends in all the wrong places and misery loves company_ ).

Emily gets off work early (her boss doesn't seem to mind her early departure; she'd witnessed the whole thing go down only moments earlier) and together, they all drive down to the station to demand Spencer's release. They don't get very far. Toby can imagine what the chief is thinking; _who are all these children and what useless fight are they trying to win now?_ He tries to keep his anger and very real terror at bay as the chief all but waves them aside, getting back to his much more pressing matters and second-glancing at the clock every so often. It's Thanksgiving and surely, he'd much rather be at home gorging on turkey and pumpkin pie with his family. _Wouldn't we all?_ What infuriates Toby the most- but doesn't _really_ surprise him, after all- is that they won't let him see her. When he'd asked the first time, they'd told him no. When he'd asked a second time, they'd told him it was impossible. After the third and fourth and fifth time, they'd chuckled and shaken their heads, merely walking away. ( _You need to go home, boy. You have no reason to be here._ )

Much like the last time, he doesn't move an inch ( _I'm not your boy and I'm not leaving_ ).

When Veronica arrives, they all know shit is going down- she's got a look in her eyes that is downright _murderous_ \- and the four of them surround her like starving kittens hovering by the can opener. She tells them firmly that she will take care of it; she will get the charges dropped. They sink back, reluctantly, into their seats and wait and wait. It's almost an hour later when she returns, without Spencer, they note, and red-faced as though she'd been yelling, she tells them the evidence is strong and there is no hope, least of all today, in getting the murder charge removed. _What evidence?_ Emily shrieks and Aria is shaking her head rapidly and Hanna fumes, _I don't care what the evidence says, she didn't do it!_ And Toby- well, he's still speechless, and Veronica purses her lips and replies, _I know she didn't do it. You know she didn't do it. But these assholes don't know that. And someone out there has really made it look like she has._ She tells them to go, that it'll be easiest if she just pays the bail and hires the best defense attorney in the state, and slowly, the girls trickle out. Toby hesitates, longing for just a glimpse of his girlfriend, and Veronica shoots him a sad, sympathetic sort of smile before saying, _Go ahead, Toby. Go home. I'm sure your family's waiting for you_.

He wishes that were true.

He stomachs maybe two bites of turkey and barely makes it through dessert. Unsurprisingly, no one in his family even notices. His father is too busy praising his stepmother over her expertly baked apple pie and his stepmother goes on and on about how beautifully brown the turkey had gotten and Toby feels as though he's going to be sick. He excuses himself from the table and, suddenly realizing he'd been there all along, Daniel asks if he's feeling alright, if his leg is in pain, if he needs anything. Toby negates all of this; honestly, he just wants to sleep, but he won't be able to until he knows Spencer's okay. And as if his father has read his mind, he tosses a question in about her wellbeing, something Toby's sure is just polite because he doubts his father really cares, and part of him just wants to scream, _She got arrested today! For something she didn't even fucking do! I watched the girl I love get carted away for something terrible and I couldn't even do anything about it!_

But he doesn't. He tells his father she's fine, celebrating the season with her family, and Daniel nods, only half-listening.

It's nearing one a.m. when he receives the text- _I'm home. Come over tomorrow?_

 _How about right now?_ He sends back and she immediately responds with, _Yes, please._

He's not supposed to drive because of his leg, but considering his right leg does all the work anyway, he risks it. The truck's still in the shop, so they'd given him a piece of shit loaner that smells of cigarette smoke and has a peculiar stain in the backseat, but regardless, he makes his way to the Hastings' house through the quiet, cold November night. All the lights in the house are off save for one- the lamp beside the couch remains illuminated, he can see, through the back door as he hobbles on crutches up the back walkway to the door. He knocks softly and she nearly jumps out of her skin, but she races to the door to let him in all the same. Somehow, he manages to balance himself in order to pull her into an embrace. Somehow, he manages _not_ to fall over and Spencer's holding onto him for dear life and she keeps taking deep, shuddering breaths, as if she'd either just stopped crying or hasn't yet started.

When he steps back, notes the fear and panic in her wide, glassy eyes, he assumes it's the latter.

"I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. Are you okay? Is everything all right? What's going on?" He begins, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to wake the slumbering members of her household. It is so very late.

"I don't even know how to answer that," Spencer shakes her head and loops an arm around his torso, guiding him toward the couch. "Let's get you off your feet."

"Don't worry about me," He shakes his head. "You… You were _arrested_ today."

Spencer glances at her hands, folding and unfolding in her lap. "Wasn't the first time, was it?"

He frowns. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I tried to get in there to talk to you. They wouldn't let me see you. I was there forever and no one would even look at me."

"My mom told me you were there, all of you," She nods. "Thank you. Seriously. That means a lot."

Toby says, "She was _pissed_."

"Of course she was," Spencer agrees. "They wouldn't let her get her way. They're not dropping the charges. That bitch… She really went for it, this time. They all but have footage of me murdering her."

"Yeah, but you're innocent," Toby reminds her. "You're innocent and we're going to prove that."

Spencer looks unconvinced. "That summer when Ali disappeared, back when I was still taking pills, is just a foggy memory. I mean, there are just huge, whole chunks that are just… missing. And for a while, -A made me think that I… I actually believed that I…"

"But you didn't," He repeats and closes a hand over both of hers. "You never hurt anyone. You certainly never _killed_ anyone. Spencer, I know you. And I know that, deep down and despite all the self-doubt you're feeling right now, you know you, too."

She sends him a very small, almost nonexistent smile, and he counts himself victorious. "Thank you for saying that. And thank you for coming over. I'm sure you'd rather be asleep."

"I'd rather be with you and you know it," He disagrees, disentangling their hands and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead, bringing her body into his. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Relatively and no, I most certainly do _not_ want to talk about it," She replies and he smirks and lets it go. "I just want to be here, with you. I want to try and get my mind off of it. It's the only way I'll be able to sleep."

Toby considers this and thinks long and hard. After a beat, he asks, "What are we doing for Christmas?"

She lifts her head from his shoulder, their eyes meeting. "What?"

"Christmas is around the corner; rapidly approaching now that Thanksgiving is over," Toby explains. "What are we doing? Should we make plans now before the Hastings clan steals you away?"

"You want to make Christmas plans?" Spencer asks, skeptical. "Toby, it's November 23rd."

"So what? You want to wait until the last minute?" He wonders. "I already have a few gift ideas in mind and I wouldn't dare steal you away from the glory that is the Hastings' family Christmas dinner, but I think that we could maybe sneak away for coffee, maybe, or possibly lunch?"

"Toby," She frowns. "I'm not really in the Christmas spirit."

"You're not?" He implores. "But the music and the cocoa and the trees and wreaths and the lights and Frosty and Rudolph… Come on, Spence!"

"And the dance on Christmas Eve," Spencer sighs. "Which you can no longer accompany me to because of the car accident I caused."

"Hey," Toby chastises. "We talked about this. It wasn't your fault the first time and it wasn't this time, either. If I had paid more attention to the road than my phone, I wouldn't have this problem."

She shrugs. "Still."

"Still what? You're not going to go?" He asks and when she gives a noncommittal response, it's his turn to frown. "Spencer, a fun night with your friends is something you could really use right now. Don't miss out just because I can't be there. We'll spend time together after. We'll exchange gifts. It'll be fine."

She bites her lip. "I don't think we should do gifts this year."

"Why not? Because you're suddenly the Grinch?" He teases and when she doesn't even flinch, he backtracks. "Hey, I'm _kidding_ , Spence. I'm just trying to lift your spirits; you know, take your mind off of things the way you asked?"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry," Spencer pleads with him. "I'm just not in the mood to celebrate Christmas right now. I'm facing prison time for a murder I didn't commit and… I just don't feel very merry this season."

He presses a kiss to her temple. "I know. I'm just trying to help you get there."

"I appreciate that," She replies, holding him tighter. "I really do. But I don't think I'd feel right receiving gifts, or even shopping for them, with this whole thing looming in the horizon. It's haunting me and until it's done… I won't ever feel ready for Christmas."

"Okay," Toby nods. "How about this- we don't exchange gifts this year. But we'll both contribute _something_ for the other person, because it definitely doesn't feel right to me to just let Christmas pass and do nothing to celebrate it."

Spencer agrees, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Okay… And what is this 'something' we're contributing?"

"I don't know, something small. Something meaningful," Toby shrugs. "A gesture."

"A gesture?" Spencer implores and when he nods, she does too. "Okay. Yeah. I can get onboard with that."

"You can?" He asks, a bit bewildered, and she agrees. "Wow. I didn't think it would be that easy."

"I'm tired," She yawns and slumps back against him. "I've had a long day."

"Tell me about it," He catches her yawn. "You should get some sleep."

"Stay with me? Please?" She appeals hopefully and she must catch his hesitance, because she immediately launches into a rambling spiel. "I know my parents are home, but they'd never in a million _years_ catch us because they're not the sentimental, 'let's check on my kid while she's sleeping' type and they'd never notice your loaner because half of my relatives are here, too, and their cars are all over the street with yours and they'll all be drunk on gin and tryptophan so they'll probably sleep until noon anyway and I don't want to be alone tonight, please Toby, I _can't_ be alone tonight and-"

"Okay, okay," He hushes her, halts her ranting, quiets her with a simple kiss. "I'd love to see your plans for getting me up the stairs like this."

She chuckles the tiniest bit, stands and offers him her hand. "How well can you hop?"

* * *

Holy hell. What a gesture.

He glances at her now, his heaving chest still bathed in a salty sheen of sweat, and she's got this saucy, satisfied, shit-eating grin on her face. She knows exactly what she's doing to him, known it from the start, and it amuses her greatly. Then again, should he be shocked? He isn't; she's always known what she does to him and she takes great pleasure in capitalizing on it. He wants to say something, but his brain is a muddled pile of goo. His muscles ache, his lungs are still begging for more air and he's not sure what he'd say anyway. The only thing running through his mind right now is this- _Wow. Holy hell. What a gesture. Wow. Holy hell. What a gesture. How do I even begin to compete with that?_

School had let out for the Christmas holidays on the twenty-first. It's Christmas Eve, now, and Toby had basically been with Spencer 24/7, save for a few meetings with her lawyers and the odd jobs he'd picked up here and there (not much business this time of the year, anyway). Today she'd called him over and her voice had sounded as though she was in a panic, but she was trying very, very hard to sound calm and Toby really wasn't buying it. By some weird combination of luck and kismet, they'd managed to finagle him _and_ his wheelchair upstairs and she'd gone on and on about the plan for the evening to try and catch Ali in the act. He's one hundred percent skeptical; it doesn't make much sense and seems to be far too dangerous for that time of night and this time of year. But she's blinking rapidly and saying over and over again, "This will work! It has to!" so Toby nods and tells her he believes it.

She's given him a job this evening and not much else to go by. He still detects something is so terribly wrong, but he can't quite seem to pinpoint what it is. Something's bothering her- he knows this girl like the back of his hand- but what, he cannot say. He wonders if it's about the dance this evening, something she'd practically begged him to attend with her and then had been feeling a massive amount of guilt over ever since the accident, no matter how many times he insisted it wasn't her fault. He wonders if it's Ali, unpredictable, wild, insatiable Ali, who has ruined all of their lives more times than he can count and has seemed to take it much too far, this time. But then she says something so very heartbreaking- _Toby… This might be my last Christmas_ \- and then he understands.

She's preparing for the end. She's preparing to say goodbye to the life she knows and each one of the people she cares about. Toby can't even fathom the extent of her resilience. If this were him (and one could argue it was, a lifetime ago), he'd be hiding, cowering in the corner, probably, upset and unwilling to let go. Spencer, however, plows right through the pain, forces herself to suffer if she's ever going to heal. It's the least merry he has ever felt, right here, right now, in this very moment, picturing weeks and months and Christmases to come without her. He refuses to believe it. He knows she fails to believe in relying on hope, but it's all he's got, and he doesn't believe, not even for a second, that they won't find a way out of this. And the moment he's about to make this grand, sweeping declaration about how they'll fight for her freedom and they won't stop fighting until they get the results they deserve, she steps out of her closet wearing _that_.

 _Holy. hell._

His eyes are everywhere at once. Where does he even look? The stilettos that she must've borrowed from Hanna because he's never seen her in anything taller than three inches? The thigh-highs trailing up and down her mile-long legs? The skirt, so very, very short, and resting high on her thighs? That skin-tight shirt, clinging to her toned abdomen, fluffy at the top? Her hair? The Santa hat? Her beautiful face? She's got a sultry look in her eyes that he's seen many times before and he honestly doesn't know where it came from. Five seconds ago she'd been talking of spending the rest of her Christmases in jail; five _weeks_ ago she'd told him she wasn't in the Christmas spirit and yet…

 _What. a. gesture._

He can't handle himself. He laughs and tells her it's a nice gesture, she giggles and thanks him and then she climbs on top of him.

They certainly have to get creative. Getting him out of the wheelchair and onto her bed is a bit of a mood killer; getting him out of his _clothing_ is a bit of a challenge. But from there? Well… She has to do most of the work because he can't _exactly_ move very well, but she seems to have prepared for this and she has more grace in her pinky finger than he has in his whole body, so he basically just goes with the flow. But it's perfect; he disrobes her of everything but the thigh-highs and the Santa hat and she chuckles and allows it. The moment is better than anything he could have imagined and now it's after and he still can't catch his breath. She lifts her head from his collarbone, sends him a searing, passionate grin and then crawls closer to place yet another kiss upon his lips.

"How did you like your gesture?"

"Good, _good_ gesture," Toby nods and she laughs. "Not going to be able to top that."

"Oh, I doubt that," She disagrees. "You are the master of gift-giving."

"Nah. If anything, we share that title," Toby tells her, reaching forward to wrap her comforter around them when she shivers and goose bumps arise on her arms. She snuggles closer to him and he adjusts the Santa hat upon her head, having knocked it askew. "I'm never going to be able to look at Santa the same way again."

She laughs and he feels the vibrations against his chest. "That wasn't my intention."

"Yeah right," He jokes. "You probably knew _exactly_ what you were doing; taking the innocence out of Christmas."

"No," She suddenly grows solemn, lazily drawing a pattern on his chest. "I just wanted to have something nice to hold onto in case…"

"In case what?" Toby prods, both already knowing and deeply dreading the answer.

"In case they lock me away for someone else's dirty work," She whispers, pressing her lips against the skin beneath her fingers. He's quiet and she must realize she's shifted the air of the conversation, because she's immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I'm just-"

"Scared," Toby fills in. "Nervous. Anxious. Downright fucking _terrified_? Yeah, I've been there, Spence. I know what you're feeling. It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself to me and you don't have to apologize. Trust me, if anyone understands what you're going through, it's me."

"I know," Spencer says. "Why do you think you're the _only_ one I can talk to about this?"

He eyes her. "You don't talk to the girls about it?"

She shrugs. "I do, but… Not as in depth. They don't _get it_ , you know? You do. It's just… It's easier. Plus they have their own things going on and I don't want… I don't know. I don't want to be constantly throwing my shit at them. They don't deserve that."

"Yeah, but neither do you," Toby reminds her and she frowns, silent in her agreement. "None of you deserve what you're going through. But it's going to come to an end, Spencer. It's got to. I believe it will, as long as we keep fighting it and don't lose hope."

"Well, to _lose_ hope, you have to have actually _had_ it to begin with," Spencer points out and he grins.

"Ah, my eternal pessimist," He presses a kiss to her crown. "Try a little faith on for size. You might like it."

"You know what?" Spencer tells him. "I don't even need a return gesture. You are literally all I need. Being here for me, fighting with me, loving me… I don't know what I would do without you."

"You say that all the time."

"Because it's true," She insists. "Sometimes, I let myself think about what a reality without you would look like and it's… _gut-wrenching_. I just think about how miserable I was in my life before you came along and how lonely and alone and anxious and… I don't know. I'm sorry. I just… I didn't mean to get carried away. I just wanted to thank you, I guess. For everything."

"Hey," Toby says, their eyes meeting sincerely. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you."

She nods a bit skeptically and he encourages, "Because tonight is going to work, right?"

"Tonight is going to work," She repeats.

"And you'll have a good time at the dance?"

"And I'll _try_ to have a good time at the dance."

"And then you'll come home and we can drink cocoa and watch Christmas movies?" He suggests. "And have gesture round two?"

Spencer laughs. "It's a date."

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the night goes to hell.

It's a blur, honestly. She remembers sitting on Santa's lap and watching Ali like a hawk and seeing the blonde leave with someone oddly familiar. She remembers pawing through Alison's house like a robber and a terrible one at that and suddenly, Hanna is nowhere to be found. She finds her best friend's cell phone somewhere in the depths of the DiLaurentis house and it immediately sets her on edge because this girl never goes _anywhere_ without her phone. Something's wrong; something's _very_ wrong and she tries as best she can to call Toby's attention to this and somehow he already knows and she doesn't know how he could help anyway, confined to his chair in her bedroom.

She's injured when Spencer finds her, lying down and clutching her head, eyes scrunched in pain. But Hanna's less concerned with the attack and more concerned with the letter she found in the attic that could easily prove Spencer's innocence, so long as they guard it with their lives and don't let it out of their sight for a second. And now it's snowing _hardcore_ and she's sitting here with her boyfriend, her best friends and their significant others and they have something tangible, something _real_ , that could clear her name and the tiniest glimmer of hope begins to blossom deep within her. _Maybe_. Maybe it wasn't over for her yet. Maybe they might just get out of this. Maybe she'd be around to see the next Christmas, and the Christmas after that. Or maybe it's just the season, the fact that it's Christmas Eve and despite the fact that none of her family members are around, she's surrounded by people she loves and people that love her. Maybe that's it. She says it anyway- _I am feeling cautiously optimistic tonight_ \- and Toby gives her a sappy grin and calls her the Grinch again- _And her heart grew three sizes that day_. This time, it makes her laugh.

But the snowfall grows heavier and it soon becomes clear that not a single person seated around the roaring fire in her living room will be leaving this house this evening. And this might worry her, might weird her out, if her parents were home (no way in _hell_ would they ever allow this; they don't have many rules, but co-ed sleepovers are out of the question), but the roads are terrible and wherever they are, Peter and Veronica can't make it back, anyway. No one says much upon the realization that they'll be pulling an all-nighter at the Hastings' house- Emily, especially, looks entirely displeased that she'll be away from her parents on Christmas Eve- but Spencer doesn't take this personally; it certainly hadn't been in _her_ plans, either. She hands out room assignments as if the head counselor of a sleep-away camp; she and Toby will, of course, take her room, she gives Melissa's room to Hanna and Caleb (the blonde looking all too thrilled at the chance to snoop through whatever the elder Hastings left behind) and the spare bedroom goes to Paige and Emily. Then, she runs out of beds. Aria must sense this, because she insists that she and Ezra take the couch and Spencer nods quickly to try and put off the inevitable awkwardness that follows. She fails; she and Ezra exchange a quick glance before Spencer averts her eyes, thinking so many strange thoughts at once. _I used to sit in the front row of your English class and you graded my papers and I thought you were –A, but hi, this is my house and please, make yourself at home on my couch with one of my best friends._

She wonders if this will last forever.

"Should we watch a movie?" Hanna suggests into the silence a bit later. "Nothing action-heavy. I can't take anymore of that tonight."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Emily agrees. "What's your holiday movie collection look like, Spence?"

"Um, let me see," Spencer replies, hopping off the side of Toby's wheelchair and opening the cabinet beneath the entertainment center. " _Miracle on 34_ _th_ _Street, It's A Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Home Alone, The Santa Clause_ and, ironically enough, _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_."

"Wait, the good one?" Hanna wonders. "Or that _terrible_ Jim Carrey live-action remake?"

"Oh come on," Caleb shakes his head. "It's not _that_ bad."

"It's bad. It's _awful_."

"I'm actually with Hanna on this one," Aria agrees. "Has Jim Carrey _ever_ made a good movie?"

"Well, you've obviously never seen _The Mask_ ," Ezra points out. "It's a classic."

"Or _Bruce Almighty_ ," Paige adds. "That was funny."

"Those are two exceptions to an otherwise terrible career," Hanna shrugs but Emily disagrees.

"Wait, wait, wait," She says. "What was that one that you and I watched? It had Kate Winslet in it and she had, like, pink hair? I can't remember, but that one was awesome."

"Oh," Spencer replies. " _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_?"

"Yes!" Emily exclaims. "Come on, Hanna, that movie's great."

"It was _terrible!_ " She disagrees. "It was a complete mind-fuck and it made no sense."

"Wait, but _Dumb and Dumber_ was kind of hilarious. Stupid humor, but still funny."

"Yeah, and I actually really, _really_ liked _Liar, Liar_."

"I don't want to discuss his filmography in depth! He's terrible!"

"You're being a little harsh."

"Yeah, I mean, there are _way_ worse actors than Jim Carrey."

"Adam Sandler?"

"Oh my god, _yes_. I hate him!"

"Ooh, or Will Ferrell?"

"Yeah, he fucking sucks."

Toby turns to Spencer and grins. "Remember when this was about trying to pick a Christmas movie to watch?"

"Too many opinions to consider," Spencer chuckles and to the room, she announces, "I'm going to make some popcorn and hot chocolate. Can you guys just pick something, please?"

They don't agree on anything and end up flipping through the channels on her television not moments later, eventually settling on a Christmas Eve showing of _The Polar Express_. It's halfway through by the time they find it, but they settle in together as the snow swirls about outside, the fire rages before them and their insides are warmed instantly by the steaming cocoa, the cozy blankets and the true spirit of the season the movie represents. It's long after midnight when the movie comes to an end and Hanna jokes that they should stay up just a bit longer to catch the first glimpse of Santa Claus (to which Emily helpfully reminds her he doesn't arrive until _after_ they've fallen asleep). They bid each other goodnight and traipse off to their respective bedrooms and it's the strangest feeling, honestly. They don't _do_ sleepovers very often and certainly not on holidays and _definitely_ not with their respective paramours. It's a weird thing. She doesn't quite know what to make of it.

She lies awake for a moment as Toby hobbles into her bed beside her, attempting in vain to make himself comfortable. He has a week left to go with this ridiculous hunk of plaster and they're both counting down the days. "I don't honestly remember how to walk normally anymore. What was it like when I had the use of _both_ of my legs?"

"Nice," She reminds him. "Easy. _Normal_. I'm sure it'll come back to you. It's just like riding a bike, right?"

"Right," He smirks. "It's only been a month, I know. But it feels like it's been _years_. Not to mention being out of work has been awful. And around the holidays? Are they trying to kill me?"

"Why does that matter?" She asks and wonders if he's got something planned. "All you owe me is a gesture."

"It doesn't feel _right_ not to get you something, Spencer," He says and she rolls her eyes. "It's _Christmas_."

"We agreed," She reminds him. "I don't need anything."

He lets it go. "Well, regardless, it is technically Christmas now. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend it with than you."

She smiles and leans across the distance between them to kiss him softly. "Me either. Merry Christmas, Toby."

"Merry Christmas."

The snow is still coming down quite heavily outside her bedroom window and she watches it fall for what seems like hours before she whispers, "Ezra Fitz is sleeping in my living room."

At first, she wonders if he's fallen asleep, because he doesn't make a single sound. But his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter and when she rolls over her side, she finds he is very, very amused by this statement. "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"It's fine. It really is. I mean, I know how Aria feels about him and it would be weird if she was, like, what? Seventh wheel?" Spencer figures. "But…"

"But it's _weird_ ," Toby points out, echoing her sentiment. "Your parents would have a coronary."

"My parents are never going to find out," She says. "And I mean I guess it's kind of weird that Paige and Caleb are here too-"

"Paige and Caleb are _our age_ , though."

"-I was never really friends with Paige and Caleb's a _guy_ and you don't have sleepovers with guys-"

"Um," Toby disagrees. "We have sleepovers all the time."

"That's different. I'm _dating_ you," Spencer shrugs. "And my parents would _die_ if they knew how often those happened."

"I think your dad's figured it out."

She smirks. "This whole thing is weird. There's nothing I could've done, though. It's been snowing for hours and these are my best friends. I'm not just going to kick them out on the street."

Toby nods, trailing a finger down her arm. "Is it weird without Alison? Do you think she feels left out?"

"I don't know," Spencer says. "Maybe she should."

They're quiet for a while before he asks, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"Toby," She starts. "We literally just-"

"No, no, you said you didn't _need_ anything," He replies. "Which I don't see how that's possible, but to each their own. I asked what you _wanted_. And everyone wants something, Spencer."

She frowns. "Toby-"

"Come on. Humor me, okay?" He continues. "It doesn't have to be big. It can be a new notebook or some fancy pen or an expensive coat or maybe a pair of shoes."

"Toby-"

"It doesn't have to be a thing, either," He goes on. "Maybe you want an A on some big exam you're dreading or to clear the air between you and your sister or for your parents to mend fences or even just some peace and quiet for once, or-"

"Toby," She finally silences him. "I don't want anything for Christmas."

"Come on, there has to be _something_ -"

"There isn't. Seriously, there's _nothing_ ," Spencer insists. "Honestly? All I want for Christmas is you."

Toby grins and says, "Take it away, Mariah," and kisses her.

From that small action, she knows they feel the very same.

* * *

She awakens from a dream in which it's snowing nonstop and the girls are sitting around the Christmas tree in her living room and Caleb and Paige are helping Toby find his missing crutches, but they're beside him all along. And then there are footsteps on the roof and the fire's going and Santa can't come down the chimney because he'll burn alive but _Santa doesn't fucking exist_ so what the hell is going on? And they're all completely silent and watching the vibrating flue with terror and then black boots appear and stamp out the fire as the figure lands at the bottom of her fireplace. Out climbs a figure in a black hoodie and _Jesus Christ, -A crashed Christmas_ , but then a black-gloved hand reaches up and tugs on the hood and no, it isn't –A, it isn't Santa, it's _Ezra Fitz_ and he's brought a sack full of presents for all of them and this somehow makes up for the fact that he's scared the living shit out of all of them.

So, basically, it's a living nightmare.

It's still snowing when she pushes back the covers carefully and steps onto her bedroom floor, but the flow has lightened and she can see a plow trying desperately to push through the mounds coating the roads outside. Toby's still fast asleep- it's barely eight a.m. and he's never been a morning person- so she leaves him be and tiptoes down the stairs, nearly forgetting her houseguests, but entirely pleased when she doesn't encounter a certain Santa Claus impersonator. It turns out, all the girls are already awake and Aria's taken the liberty of making coffee so Spencer helps herself to a cup and sits in silence as Emily concludes a phone call to her mother. The roads are still a helpless disaster and they won't be getting home to their families anytime soon. It instigates a feeling of melancholy that Hanna tries quickly to rectify, reminding them that Christmas is still Christmas as long as they're together.

They barely get a moment to bask in the meaning of her words before _it_ happens.

Ezra Fitz is half naked on her staircase. Sure, maybe that's not where her eyes go at first; Toby always looks good in whatever he's wearing (or _not_ wearing; she's certainly spent plenty of time drooling over her boyfriend's body) and Paige looks cute in her Santa hat paired with baggy boxers and Caleb has a nicer body than she would've expected, but _Ezra Fitz is half naked on her staircase._ It's certainly a gesture and it had _certainly_ taken her by surprise, but she's not exactly as thrilled about this as she would have expected to be. A peal of nervous laughter, somewhat _embarrassed_ laughter, erupts from her lips and the half-clothed Santas come down the stairs and half-naked Ezra Fitz attempts to help Toby down the stairs and he looks less than thrilled with the older man's help. Spencer takes over as soon as she can reach him and when they're out of earshot of the others, she shoots him a _what the hell is going on?_ kind of look, to which he shrugs and gets closer, still, to reply.

"Not my idea."

She doesn't know why this makes her feel better, but it does. Now _she's_ the one who won't ever be able to look at Santa Claus the same way again.

When everyone is decent again, they get to work getting the house ready for Christmas. Emily and Paige pull out all the decorations, Hanna and Caleb spend more time laughing over some of the more over the top décor Veronica's collected over the years than choosing a good home for them and Ezra announces he'll do the honors of cooking them a beautiful Christmas chicken. No one argues. From the pantry, Spencer finds a gingerbread kit that's probably older than she is, but Toby's eyes light up at the discovery and she'd rather sell her soul to the devil than put out that fire. The frosting is crusted over and most of the gumdrops are harder than her head, but they still have a blast putting it together. At their feet, Hanna and Caleb are still in hysterics, and Spencer and Toby are so caught up in their gingerbread crafting, they don't notice until much later that Toby's cast is now striped red like a candy cane, Hanna creatively putting the rest of the ribbon to good use. It's kind of hilarious and Spencer wonders why she hadn't been the one to think of it.

They set the table and it grows colder and the house begins to smell wondrous with all the new foods being prepared in her kitchen. But as everyone else bustles about to do their part, one member of their makeshift family is noticeably absent. Spencer finds him in the living room, watching television with a nostalgic, almost saddened, look in his eyes, and she brings him a cup of tea, not wanting him to feel left out for even a second. He smiles upon the sight of her and wraps an arm around her waist as she comes to sit beside him, but she can't help but notice that poignant look hasn't left his eyes and she entangles a hand in his hair, kissing his crown. Glancing up, she notes the movie on the screen- black and white, their favorite kind- and smiles almost wistfully.

" _Holiday Inn?_ "

"I used to watch it with my mom," He explains. "It was her favorite Christmas movie. She could practically quote the thing from the beginning to the end. It used to drive my father _crazy_."

Spencer asks, "What _doesn't_ drive your father crazy?"

"Good point," He chuckles. "Sorry I'm being anti-social. I want to help, I just… don't really know how. Not when I'm like this."

"You're fine," She assures him. "Everyone's pretty much got it under control. But you kind of disappeared on me so I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Are you kidding? I'm great," Toby tells her. "I'm spending Christmas with my favorite person in the world… and with a few other people I like but not as much as you."

She laughs. "Okay, good."

"And later, hopefully when the snow clears up a bit," Toby continues. "They'll be able to go home and _I'll_ be able to finally shower you with my gesture."

"What?" Spencer feigns surprise. "You mean _Magic Mike Three_ wasn't the gesture?"

"Ha, ha, ha," He drones. "No, it wasn't. You know that wasn't my plan. In what universe would that _ever_ be my plan?"

"Maybe the same universe where he's standing on my staircase, half naked," She shudders. "I'm _really_ starting to rethink this group sleepover idea."

"Yeah, I liked it better when it was just the two of us."

"Me too, obviously."

Toby grins at her, then, and says, "I love you. And even though a few things didn't turn out the way we planned, this is our first Christmas together and it is certainly one to remember."

"I love you too," Spencer replies and kisses him lovingly. "And I imagine this is the first of _many_ memorable Christmases we'll share, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Toby teases. "I thought this was your last Christmas?"

Spencer says, "No. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not giving up yet."

Toby beams. "That's the spirit."

 _All I want for Christmas is you…_


	3. rockin' around the christmas tree

**Hello again! It's day three and life is getting a little insane on my end, so I'm really hoping I'll be able to keep up this regular updating schedule, but I guess we'll see. It all depends on what the mouse has in store for me, am I right? Cool. So anyway how's everyone doing? Getting ready for some holiday cheer? Maybe going to a Christmas party or two? That's what's happening in today's chapter. :D**

 **This chapter is themed after "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," but I imagine you gathered that from the title. Thanks for reading and enjoy!**

* * *

rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop

Sometimes she looks at her life, now, and she's come so far from where she's been, she hardly recognizes herself.

It's taken years of intensive therapy for her to get even a semblance of control over her anxiety and even to understand that it's chemical imbalance she cannot fix, a mental illness that has no rhyme or reason, something she cannot just simply _turn off_ at her convenience, but _man_ , if she could have peered into the future as a pill-popping, panic attack-ridden teenager to see how beautiful and downright _perfect_ her life would turn out, then maybe she could have relaxed just a little. She supposes it's the effect of being an eternal pessimist- though, she prefers the term _realist_ ; it's not that she expects the worst will happen each time. She just likes to be prepared for each outcome, just in case. But her life had taken a dramatic upswing the moment they defeated –A in one last, long, bloody battle and had come out the other side, mentally and emotionally destroyed but physically unharmed. And Alison, with a gash at her hairline and a split lip bleeding down her chin, had looked at all her warrior girls and said the only thing she could say at a time like that- _Now that is immortality, my darlings._

It still comes back to haunt Spencer, every now and then.

She goes to Yale because it's not UPenn and she gets to boast that she's the first of her family to branch out and try a new university and she graduates with honors to no one's surprise. Her mother cries, her father wears an old bulldogs sweatshirt all the time, now, and Toby cheers for her from the very front row, as he has since day one. He'd moved to Connecticut with her despite his father's pleas to think this through (he had and thoroughly; _what_ was he going to do in Rosewood without her?) and upon her graduation, he surprises her with a trip to Paris to celebrate and they spend a full week exploring the city of lights. Fall comes much too quickly and they can't afford an apartment _just_ yet, so they move back home and she commutes to school and he goes back to work and they barely see each other. Grad school is tougher than she'd ever thought and she begins classes at UPenn the last week of August and it's so ironic because they _want_ her, now, and she wants to hate them for rejecting her four years ago, she wants to tell them to stick it where the sun don't shine, but they have one of the best graduate programs in her department in the _country_ , so she lets bygones be bygones.

After all, grudges were –A's thing and Spencer has turned over a new leaf.

She commutes into the city four times a week for classes, once for her internship, and three times for her part-time job. On the weekends, she tutors high school juniors and seniors from Rosewood High and completes mounds of homework under a caffeine coma. She'll sleep when she's dead. She's living full time in the barn, now, but she's barely home; she's practically living full time in the loft. But Toby's barely home, either; when they're not sending him away for jobs, which they do much more often than either of them would like, they're sending him in early and keeping him out late to complete the local ones. They barely catch a glimpse of one another and one night, a week or so before their anniversary and on a rare night when they're both home, Spencer bursts into a fit of overtired, overemotional tears, claiming that she cannot go on like this, that she misses him like crazy, and that they have stopped making their relationship a priority, and they need to fix that, she cries, before they fall apart again like they always do. He holds onto her tightly, lets her rant, lets her get it all out of her system, before kissing her and promising he won't let that happen.

And so they fix it.

Finals week begins and in the midst of her studying and her grueling, intensive internship, she and Toby shop for apartments in Philadelphia. Everyday they tour a new one, a thrilling sense of nervous excitement fills her veins because they're _actually_ doing this. They are _actually_ moving in together and this is the first chapter of their lives together and it's real and it's happening right in front of her. Living with Toby is something she's always dreamed of but yet, she hadn't expected it to happen so soon. They're twenty-four and twenty-five; practical ages, and all that, and yet it _still_ gets to her if she dwells on it too long. They find a reasonably priced apartment with a gorgeous view of the city and a washer and dryer in unit and it's just a few blocks from the campus. It's theirs after a quick background and credit check and they sign the lease, pick up their keys and get their move-in date. Toby rents a truck to fit all of their belongings from the loft and barn combined and they move in on December first.

And now, it's December fifteenth. It's been exactly two weeks and it still doesn't feel real.

"Okay," Spencer exhales, coming into the living room with her checklist in tow. "I've got the Christmas playlist, I'm picking up the food in an hour and I _just_ finished the last of the cleaning."

Toby smirks from his spot on the couch. "We made that much of a mess in two weeks?"

"Well, no, but I still want it to be spotless," She shrugs. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"The cupcakes?"

"Cooling, waiting for icing."

"And I sent out directions for everyone, so…" Toby trails. "No, I think that's everything. Come sit."

"I can't sit," She shakes her head. "There's still so much to do."

He eyes her. "No there isn't. We just finished your checklist, didn't we?"

"The tree," Spencer says. "We have to put the tree together."

Toby frowns. "I can't believe you convinced me to get a fake one."

"We live on the fourth floor," Spencer reasons, not for the first time. "How do you suppose we get a real, live tree into the elevator?"

"We could take the stairs."

"What, are we Ross with his freaking couch?" Spencer smirks, amused. "We'd drop pine needles _everywhere_ and I'm not carrying a tree up four flights of stairs."

"But… but…" Toby sighs. "Fake tree, fake Christmas."

Spencer chuckles. "We'll get a real one someday; maybe even next year. But this was a last minute decision and we had to improvise. I'm sorry, Toby."

He exhales somewhat dramatically and gestures towards the box in the corner of the room. " _Fine_. Let's put this stupid thing together."

She grins and they get to work, plugging it into the outlet right in front of their sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. They'd decided a few days after they had moved in to throw a housewarming/Christmas party and only after the guests had been invited and the food had been ordered had they realized what an _insane_ idea this had been. Their apartment is brand, spanking new and not a single member of their families or any of their friends had even been able to visit yet, it's ten days until Christmas and people are surely busy purchasing and wrapping gifts and spending time with their families, and she and Toby were both far too wrapped up in their own personal lives to take the time to entertain. But they really, _really_ need this; Spencer can't even remember the last time they'd gone out and had _fun_. Their lives really had become all about work. And who wants that, really, especially during the holidays?

"Can you believe it's the fifteenth already?" Toby asks, reaching out to fluff a few of the artificial branches. "Christmas is only ten days away."

"It's crazy how fast time flies," Spencer shakes her head. "It feels like we were _just_ making polite, yet awkward conversation at your parents' house on Thanksgiving."

Toby groans. "Don't remind me. I'm sorry about that. I swear; it gets worse every year."

Spencer shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. Are they coming tonight?"

"When I called last night to ask, my dad said, _Well we certainly plan on stopping by_ ," Toby quotes in an impeccable impersonation of his father's deep, cold voice. "So, no, probably not."

"That's probably for the best," Spencer says, reaching into their plastic tub of cheap ornaments from Target. "My parents, to quote _my_ father, _wouldn't miss it for the world_ , so you know... Since our parents _kind of_ hate each other…"

"Kind of? It'd be like the Capulets and Montagues if they showed up," Toby says and Spencer laughs. "And this is nice carpet. I don't know how to remove bloodstains."

"A little cold water usually does the trick," Spencer tells him and when he shoots her a strange look, she shrugs. "What? I played a lot of contact sports growing up… amongst other things."

Toby laughs. "Right. Best to keep them as far away from each other as possible."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

"It'll be so good to see everyone," Spencer says a bit later. "I know the girls are coming and I haven't seen them all since the summer. I imagine they're bringing whomever they're dating, now."

"Whomever they're dating?" Toby asks. "Hanna and Caleb are as solid as we are."

"Yeah, _they_ are, but they always have been," Spencer says. "But who even knows with Aria and Emily? I've never been able to keep up with them."

"That's true," Toby nods. "And you invited your sister, right?"

"Only because I knew if she found out from my parents, she would have straight up murdered me," Spencer says. "And I can't die right now. I have a lot going on."

Toby chuckles. "And did you ever hear back from either of the DiLaurentises?"

"Jason told me he'd try to make it," Spencer replies. "I still haven't heard anything from Alison. But I haven't seen her since high school graduation, so I would imagine she's not going to show up now."

"Ah, yes, but that's why she'll show up," Toby counters. "Because you don't expect her to."

Spencer bites her lip. "That's true. Oh well. We have plenty of space and food for everyone."

Toby agrees. "I think it'll go well."

"Yes and I think everyone will really love our new place," Spencer adds, stepping back to admire their handiwork. "Just as much as we do."

Toby agrees, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Yeah. It really is perfect."

She leans in closer and he meets her halfway, sealing the moment with a kiss. After, she asks, "We have about forty-five minutes, now. I'm going to go pick up the rest of the food and then come back and change. Do you want to come with me?"

"Sure," He shrugs and reaches for his coat. "This party has a dress code, now? What's wrong with what I've got on?"

"Nothing, Toby. You've never looked better," She jokes, eyeing his tank top and sweatpants, with the hole in the knee. "You don't have to wear a three-piece suit. Just put on _real_ clothes."

"Real clothes?" He asks and then glances down at his chosen loungewear, teasing, "Ah shit, am I wearing my imaginary clothes again? I really don't even notice, sometimes."

She smirks. "Shirt. Jeans. Comb your hair. You look like you just rolled out of bed."

"We did!" He exclaims. "We slept in and watched Christmas specials for three hours this morning, remember?"

"That was this morning!"

"Yeah and then I had to clean the kitchen and living room, pick up a fake tree and ornaments and bake cupcakes," He goes on. "That's a lot of manual labor."

"Says the man who does manual labor _for a living_."

Toby chuckles. "Okay, okay, I'll put on real clothes. You win."

"I always do!"

"Don't I know it!"

When they return from the restaurant downtown, arms full of delectable treats for their guests to enjoy, they begin to prepare the kitchen with hors d'oeuvres and main goodies and cookies and cupcakes all themed for the season. Spencer frosts the cupcakes to look like tiny Christmas trees and places a sugar star on top of each one, dousing the green frosting in little ornaments posing as sprinkles. It's well after six when there's a knock on their front door; everyone must arrive fashionably late, and all that. Toby's fiddling with the music, trying in vain to get the music to play above a whisper and Spencer's washing a few leftover dishes, up to her elbows in soapy water. With nervous anticipation- who would their first visitor be? – they abandon their tasks and head for the door, both adjusting their outfits to look presentable, and with grins on their faces the swing the door wide open. Spencer briefly wonders if they look like an old married couple from the fifties.

"Welcome to our apartment!"

But then the identical grins on their faces completely slide off of their faces. On the other side of the threshold is Alison DiLaurentis, because _of fucking course_ she's the first one to arrive. "Thanks. I should've known you two would've been all Ma and Pa Brady about it."

She steps around them, into the apartment, and leaves the couple to pick their jaws up off the floor. "It's nice. Cute. A little smaller than I would've expected but it's very quaint. I'm sure you're both making shit money, right? I know I am."

Spencer nods and Toby's still silent beside her. "Um, yeah. Yeah, we're pretty broke."

"Something smells really good," She then compliments, moving towards the kitchen. "Italian?"

"Our favorite," Spencer nods and Alison grins.

"I spent eight months in Italy, Spencer. I know a fake gnocchi when I smell one," She replies and then pulls a face. "What is that?"

It takes Spencer a moment before realizing she's talking about the strangled sound coming from the iPod dock. Turning to her boyfriend, she asks, "Did you figure out the speakers yet?"

"This close," He emphasizes and, grateful for the excuse to duck out of the conversation, he turns to go. "I'm on it."

"Oh, it's supposed to be music?" Alison smirks, unimpressed. "I thought someone was drowning your cat."

"We don't have a cat."

"Yeah, not anymore."

There's another knock on the door and Spencer sighs with relief. "Well, make yourself at home. I'm going to go grab that."

She pleads with the universe to send her someone good, someone to make the scene a little less awkward… and gets bequeathed with Toby's father instead. "Mr. Cavanaugh…"

"Spencer," He nods curtly and hands her a bottle of wine. "For the house."

"Oh, thank you," She smiles politely. "Come on in. Can I take your coat?"

"Sure," Daniel replies, shrugging out of it and draping it over her arm. He takes a moment to glance around the apartment and Spencer's heart is pounding wildly and it's so ironic, really. For a woman who doesn't give a single shit what this man thinks of her or her relationship with his son, she certainly wants their home to impress him. She doesn't really understand why.

"We have drinks and food and such in the kitchen right over here," Spencer indicates and of course this is the moment when Alison chooses to reappear. "And the bathroom is just down the hall, if you need it, first door on the right. And Toby is-"

"Well, you must be Toby's father," Alison beams, extending a hand. "You look exactly like him. I can see where he gets his good looks."

Daniel's almost icy gaze begins to soften. "Yes. And you are?"

"Alison," She introduces, sure to leave her surname inaccessible. "We go way back, Toby and I. We were _great_ friends; almost something more at one point."

Daniel appears skeptical and glances to Spencer for confirmation. Spencer, however, cannot even think of Toby and Alison almost kissing without gagging, so she pastes on a smile, gestures towards the bottle of wine the elder Cavanaugh had gifted her with and says, "I'm going to go get this on ice."

She's desperate to get out of there, but also terrified of where the conversation will go without her help and when she makes it to the kitchen, she finds Toby, grinning over the now booming iPod dock, victorious and oblivious to the situation in their living room. "Hey, Spence. This thing is a tricky little bastard but I finally-"

"Your dad's here," Spencer spits out, reaching for the corkscrew and popping open the bottle of wine, already pouring herself a glass. "He's talking to Alison and that cannot be a good thing."

Toby's eyes widen. "My _dad's_ here?"

"Yes! And he's talking to Alison and you have to stop it!" Spencer exclaims and there's yet another knock upon their front door. She sips at her wine and heads in that direction. "It's _so_ uncomfortable to watch, Toby, you have to do something."

He groans. "Remember when we thought this party was a good idea?"

She shoots him a rueful smile and they make an appearance back in the living room, where Toby interferes in the conversation between his father and Alison and Spencer begs for someone better behind the door. Once again, she's let down; it's Melissa and she's hand in hand with her old/new fiancé/boyfriend Wren. Spencer's pretty sure she's just seen a ghost. Melissa hugs her overenthusiastically while Spencer remains motionless, her arms pinned at her sides, and stares at the wicked grin upon Wren's face. This cannot be happening. She cannot seriously be standing here, staring at this man. Melissa presents her younger sister with a pie she claims to have baked herself (there's a price sticker on the bottom that Spencer doesn't bother mentioning) and then shoots her sister an odd sort of look.

"Aren't you going to let us in?" Melissa asks and Spencer nods lamely, stepping aside and closing the door behind them. "Oh, this place is so little and _cute_ , Spencer! When mom and dad said you'd gotten your own place, I was like, 'How the hell is she going to afford something nice?' But I mean, it makes sense _now_ , of course. This place is good, too!"

Spencer ignores the backhanded compliment and just merely nods. Wren adds, "It's quite picturesque, yes."

She eyes him, perhaps a bit too icily, and Melissa grins at him. "We'd grown closer while I was still in London, remember? And when I came back… Well, he just followed. He's too persistent to say no to, Spencer."

"Yeah," Spencer frowns. "Believe me, I remember."

The corners of Wren's mouth twitch and she suddenly feels dirty, like she could take a hundred showers after that look in his eyes and never feel clean. Melissa purses her lips and tells Wren, "See? I told you she wouldn't be happy for us."

"What are you talking about?" Wren disagrees. "She's bloody thrilled, aren't you, Spencer?"

Spencer turns towards the kitchen to place the pie with the rest of the food. "If you're happy, I'm happy."

A resounding knock at the door brings her back to the living room and she's pretty much given up, at this point. She calls, "I'll get it!" and tries to ignore the look of desperate hope and then the crushing disappointment that follows in Toby's eyes. She'll make it up to him later. She promises.

When the door opens, Emily's standing there, Paige at her side, and they're both grinning and dressed in festive cocktail dresses, carrying a platter of candy cane-shaped cookies. "Hi Spencer!"

Spencer all but explodes with joy. She reaches forward and collects them both in an embrace, the two girls acting in surprise but hugging back, and she says, "Oh thank _God_ you're here. This thing is a shit show."

Paige laughs and shrugs out of the embrace first. "A Spencer Hastings party? I doubt it."

"Yeah, what's going on?" Emily wonders. "You were excited about this!"

"We both were," Spencer says. "Until Alison decided to show up and get into a rousing conversation with Toby's dad, someone she has literally no business talking to, and then Melissa shows up with fucking _Wren_ of all people and I kind of want to die, just a little bit, on the inside."

Paige's eyes widen. "Alison's here?"

"Wait, _Wren_?" Emily exclaims. "As in, Dr. Wren? The one she was-"

"Engaged to before he decided to make out with me, thus causing them to break up and her to hate me even more than she did before?" Spencer finishes. "Yup. The very same."

"Okay," Emily nods, a bit quickly. "Okay, we'll um… We'll help. It'll be great. It'll be fine."

"I've given up on great and fine," Spencer shakes her head. "What's Christmas without a little drama, right?"

Within the next few moments, Spencer finishes her drink, gets herself a second, and things seem to get a little better, after that. Hanna and Caleb arrive with more alcohol and Spencer's parents are soon to follow, awkwardly arriving at the same time as and bumping into Jason, who gives them each a polite hello and ignores the look in Peter's eyes. And honestly, it's not like she didn't expect this. She couldn't throw a party for their friends and family and _not_ expect some kind of nonsense to ensue. She'd just hoped to have _some_ good moments here and there, interspersed with the drama.

She glances over towards the Christmas tree, where Toby is in a congenial conversation with Jason and Caleb, laughing despite the inevitable tension in the room. It makes her smile, lightens her mood a bit, and suddenly she aches for him, misses him strangely, as if he isn't standing merely ten feet away from her. He catches her eye, grins at her, and she grins back before he gets back to his conversation. In the middle of the floor, Wren and Melissa are dancing- practicing for their second almost-wedding, Hanna jokes- to a rendition of _Holly Jolly Christmas_ and even her parents are getting into it. Spencer has never seen them get along for this long in her entire life. Alison's talking to Paige, who looks as though she can't possibly get out of that conversation fast enough, and Daniel is, as always, unimpressed and sitting on the couch, looking incredibly bored. Spencer chews her lip, contemplative, and decides it's best to leave him alone.

"Where the hell is Aria?" Hanna asks a moment later, sipping from a cocktail she'd made moments earlier. "I texted her when we were on the way and she said she'd just left."

"I don't know," Spencer replies. "She doesn't live close by, but neither do you."

"We should've gotten here around the same time," Hanna reasons. "Em? Have you heard from her?"

Emily hesitates. "No."

"And you're lying to us because?"

"I'm not, it's just…" She sighs. "You're not going to like it."

"Like what?"

The front door opens and the petite brunette appears, beaming. "Hi! Sorry we're late, everyone!"

A chorus of hellos welcome them and Hanna asks, "We?"

Behind her, Ezra Fitz appears, shaking snow off of his coat, a gift in hand. "It's my fault. I didn't want to show up empty-handed!"

"Why did you even show up at all?" Hanna mutters, less under her breath than it should have been.

Spencer turns to Emily. "You knew she was bringing him?"

Emily shrugs. "I mean… I guess I didn't know with _certainty_ , but she did mention that she ran into him a couple weeks ago and I guess they reconnected? But I don't think it's anything serious, I mean-"

"Hey guys!" Aria greets them each with a hug. "I'm so sorry. We got a little caught up."

Her cheeks are pink and she can't keep the grin off of her face. Hanna grimaces. "Ew. I don't need to know whatever the fuck it was you were doing."

"Aria…" Spencer says instead, but realizes halfway through she doesn't know what to say. Instead, she just decides to grin and bear it. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too! I'm glad you decided to do this," Aria replies. "I'm sorry I didn't mention Ezra. It just kind of happened?"

"That's literally going to be the title of your autobiography," Hanna states disapprovingly and Emily swats at her.

"Stop being so unsupportive," Emily warns her. "You're acting like a total bitch."

"She's not," Aria counteracts but Emily insists.

"She is! Just because you don't like Ezra-"

"Oh, this is much bigger than me not liking Ezra," Hanna cuts her off. "But, this is Spencer's home and Spencer's party and it's almost Christmas and I don't think we should get into it right here, right now."

"Thanks Han," Spencer says. "So Em, how did-"

"Get into _what_ right now?" Aria asks. "It's bigger than not liking him? When are you going to accept the man I love?"

"When you accept how shitty of a person he is!" Hanna exclaims and Aria's eyes widen and then harden.

"When you and Caleb had your issues and broke up, you were devastated. We were all here for you until you got back together," Aria points out. "How are me and Ezra any different?"

"Are you fucking _kidding me?_ " Hanna explodes. "I could sit here and _list_ the ways! You're settling, Aria. You're completely fucking settling. You could do better- you _have_ done better- and you know it!"

"Hanna, I'm not going to stand here and let you tear apart the man I'm marrying," Aria seethes. "I'm not just going to listen to you bitch and complain about something you have no control over! We aren't sixteen anymore, okay? This isn't what adults do!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Spencer interjects. "You're _marrying_ him?"

Aria's face pales. "No, I didn't mean that. I just-"

"Like _hell_ you didn't," Hanna rolls her eyes, jabbing a finger in Emily's direction. "I thought you said they weren't serious?"

"They weren't," Emily defends herself. "To my knowledge, anyway."

Aria backpedals, setting pleading eyes on Spencer. "I wasn't going to tell you right away. I didn't want to take away from the night. It's your party, Spencer, and I didn't want to steal your thunder."

Spencer glances at each of her best friends before exhaling wearily. "Sometimes it _does_ feel like we're still sixteen."

And with that, she turns away from them and heads further into the living room. Peter and Veronica are laughing at something when she passes and they call out to her, saying, "Hey, champ! This is a great place you've got here. Really, I think you and Toby will be very happy here."

"You do?" Spencer balks and tries to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Of course," Veronica nods. "And right before Christmas, too. What a wonderful time of the year. Celebrating with the ones you love in a brand new home; just lovely."

"And who knows what the New Year will bring?" Peter wonders. "Your master's? A real job in your field?"

"Perhaps a ring?" Veronica suggests and at Peter's faltering gaze, she swats at his chest. "Oh stop it, Peter. We've talked about this. You know they're headed there eventually and she can't be your little girl forever."

"I know, I know. But I'm not exactly ready to walk her down the aisle yet, either."

"Oh my god," Spencer shakes her head, thinking of her best friends. "We're not getting engaged anytime soon. We have way too much on our plates right now. We don't need a _wedding_ to think about too."

Her parents grin and shrug, unconvinced, and Spencer turns away, mildly horrified. She comes face to face, instead, with Jason, who gives her a hug, saying, "I've got to take off. But I had a great time and I'm glad you invited me."

"Thank you for coming," Spencer says. "I'm sorry things got a little crazy."

"Eh, they always do around the holidays," Jason shrugs. "Still the best party I've been to in a while."

"Really?"

"Hey, you're my sister," Jason grins. "Would I lie to you?"

She waves goodbye as he ducks out of the apartment and finally she finds her boyfriend, reaching for his hand and tugging him away, all to herself. "Come dance with me."

"I don't dance."

"You do, now."

He smirks and obliges, hands at her waist. "Everything okay? People seem to be enjoying themselves."

"And yet, _this_ is the most fun I've had all night," Spencer sighs. "Must be the pressure of entertaining. I'm not good at it."

"Nonsense. You're good at everything," Toby tells her, kissing her lips. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, really. It's been great to see everyone and you're right, people are having fun," She explains. "But… Did the _drama_ have to come with them?"

Toby nods, seeming to understand. "Wren or Ezra?"

"Both!" Spencer exclaims. "And Alison and your father."

"Yeah," Toby cringes. "I could've done without that, too."

"Melissa's baiting me," Spencer says. "I'm sure of it."

"That asshole still looks at you like you're a piece of meat."

"And Aria," Spencer continues. "She's _marrying_ him."

"Humbert Humbert?" Toby's eyes widen. "She can't marry him."

"Oh god," Spencer says, ceasing their dancing and tugging him towards the kitchen. "I need a drink."

"I second that."

When they reach the kitchen, Alison's there peeling the wrapper off of one of Spencer's Christmas tree cupcakes. "These are so cute. Did you make them yourself?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "It's an old family recipe and I got the frosting idea off of Pinterest."

"I wish I was this creative," Alison says, sucking icing off of her thumb. "They're to die for."

She heads back to the living room, pausing to say, "You're lucky, you know. You both are. I am deeply envious of what you have."

Upon her absence, Spencer turns to the alcohol, saying, "Better make that a double."

"Queen Alison is jealous of _us_?" Toby asks, matching Spencer's drink. "Has hell frozen over? Are pigs flying? Jesus Christ, I never thought I'd hear those words coming out of _her_ mouth."

They sip in silence; the only other sounds are the cheerful, joyous Christmas music and the peals of raucous laughter as the party goes on without them. Halfway through her drink, Spencer decides, "It wasn't so bad after all."

"I think that's the tequila talking," He grins. "But I'll take it. I told you, it's been fun."

"Was I stupid to think that everyone would check their attitudes at the door?"

"Well, I wouldn't use the word _stupid_ , but maybe… I don't know. Misguided?"

"Misguided. I like that," Spencer nods. "What a way to kick off the season."

"Yes," Toby agrees. "With the party and maybe with something else…?"

He glances up and she furrows her brow, following his lead. There, in the curved awning, is a sprig of mistletoe. Spencer grins. "We were together all day! When did you do that?"

"Do what?" He feigns innocence. "There just _happens_ to be some mistletoe hanging in our kitchen. How strange."

"You're strange," She says. "And you're some kind of wizard, I swear. I always thought I was _so difficult_ to surprise, too."

"Um, no, you're actually quite easy," Toby tells her. "Sorry to disappoint."

Spencer chuckles. "Well, that's unfortunate for me."

"Yes, because you really hate my surprises."

"I do!"

"You don't," Toby disagrees. "You're a liar, Hastings."

Spencer grins. "Tell me something I don't know."

Before he can say another word, she steps forward and plants a kiss upon his lips, her hands framing his face as his instantly flock to her waist. They sway on the spot, kissing longingly and passionately, as if they were star-crossed lovers, as if they were reunited after worlds and lifetimes apart, as if this very kiss was the first of many for the rest of their long, united lives.

He's right; she was lying. His surprises are always full of magic.

 _Rockin' around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday! Everyone's dancing merrily in the new old-fashioned way!_


	4. tis the season to be jolly

**Good morning, good morning! Hopefully everyone is doing well today! I am off for a lovely eleven-hour shift (lol someone pls send help) complete with Extra Tragic Hours. Hurray! (Sarcasm!) Thank you for your responses so far! They've really been making me feel all the feels. Christmas is my favorite time of year and it's nice to be able to share that with you guys since I can't really share it with my family. Speaking of family- this chapter deals with a family I had previously introduced in chapter 12 of "The Wisdom to Know the Difference," which I'm sure you haven't read and that's totally fine. You don't 100% have to read it to understand what's going on, but it might help a little? For those of you who do remember, I hope you aren't annoyed with me that I brought Ava and Ella back and I hope you don't mind that I took some time to write a scene showing Christmas with autism (Want to learn more? Visit goteamkate . com to see the family I based this one off of and to read about two kickass little girls!) Laura! This one's for you. :)**

 **This chapter is themed after "Deck the Halls," which I'm sure you guessed. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!**

* * *

'tis the season to be jolly  


They're coping. It's been three years since the diagnosis and they're coping as best they can.

She has her good days and her bad days, just like Ella. There are some days when Spencer is riding high off of one of Ella's better moments, and she thinks, _Fuck yeah. My little girl can do anything_. But then, she'll watch as a child hops excitedly off of the school bus, hugs her mother and launches into an extremely detailed presentation of her day at school, and a pit of melancholy grows in Spencer's stomach as she's forced to realize, _Oh. My little girl won't ever be able to do that_. The statistics are astounding. More and more children are being diagnosed with autism each and every day and the probabilities grow smaller and smaller as the autistic population grows larger and larger. And yet, there are still people out there who fear Ella and kids exactly like her. There are still the people out there who think it's something caused by too many inoculations at one time or something Spencer did or didn't do during her pregnancy. And there are still assholes out there like Jenny McCarthy who think autism is caused and can be fixed and it boils Spencer's blood every time she sees her face.

 _My kid's perfect the way she is. Her brain works a little differently, that's all._

She's five years old, now. Spencer and Toby are still unsure of where all the time has gone. She's gone from a fearless, flapping, jibber-jabbering toddler to a full-fledged kindergartener who is, somehow, even more fearless. She's gotten over the aversion of having people touch her hair; now, it's long and flowing past her shoulders and she uses it, tears at it, pulls it from her scalp whenever she flies off the handle into a meltdown. Speaking of which, her meltdowns are still as vicious and as regular as ever, but they don't last quite as long as they had in the past now that they have Bentley, their yellow lab service animal, who Ella immediate seeks out the moment she loses control and he's always there to comfort her back to her old self. She's speaking in broken sentences, her grammar is still just as confusing and funny as ever and, perhaps the biggest change of all, they had finally managed to rid themselves of diapers and through a painful and stressful few months, had successfully potty trained her.

They didn't really have a choice there. Ella had turned five and left preschool and in the distance, kindergarten was calling.

It's an involved process; much more than they were ever expecting. For years, Spencer had lived by one single philosophy regarding her youngest daughter- _in your own time, baby_. Ella missed all of her milestones and didn't respond to her own name? _In your own time, baby_. Other two-year-olds were walking and speaking and playing with one another at daycare, but Ella kept, silently, to herself? _In your own time, baby_. Ella was still in diapers at four and a half, but children half her age were using the toilet with ease? _In your own time, baby_. But Spencer merely could not do that with school. She wasn't sure if her daughter was ready for an institution where academia suddenly meant so much; preschool had always insisted they weren't play-based, but the most they'd ever taught the little ones was their ABCs. It had been something she'd been dreading from the moment Ella had entered school in the first place. Their preschool was so great, so understanding, but what would happen next? How would they ever find another school that simply _understood_ and knew how to handle their vibrant, feisty, fearless little girl?

Could she go to kindergarten as Ava had? Or would she need a special school, one for children with disabilities? These were the questions that kept Spencer awake at night.

Their elementary school is an equal opportunity education center and Ella's occupational therapist seemed to think Ella could handle a normal kindergarten class just fine. She would, of course, need an educational assistant in the class with her and she didn't go _anywhere_ , these days, without Bentley, but with these two aides, the OT was confident that Ella would find success just as any child would. This hadn't eased Spencer's nerves in the slightest; if anything, it had downright _terrified_ her. Her little girl? Her spirited baby? In a regular kindergarten class (Spencer _hates_ the word 'regular') with normal children (she hates 'normal,' too) who wouldn't understand Ella and most likely steer clear from her? Was this supposed to make her _feel_ better? It didn't. And glancing next to her, searching her husband's eyes, she knew Toby felt the very same. That's the great thing about them, honestly. They always do.

They went to a meeting, next, with the principal of the school, Ella's soon-to-be kindergarten teacher and two members of the board of education. Spencer remembers shaking like a leaf as she spoke to each one of them, explaining her concerns for her daughter's education and safety while at school and she remembers Toby explaining the nature of Ella's extreme meltdowns and how she would need somewhere to go should she get over stimulated, some way of self-regulating if Bentley should not be enough for her. The members they were speaking to took every little thing into account, had given the okay for Bentley to attend class with her and then the kindergarten teacher had kindly shown them to a small office at the end of the long school hallway, where they had recently put in a sensory room, almost identical to the one in their OT's office. The smiling woman had told the awed parents, "Your daughter isn't the only one who will get some use out of this room, Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh." And this is what had done it, honestly. This is what had finally calmed Spencer and Toby's nerves. They had been prepared for this, right from the start. They were already ready for children just like Ella, because they knew that no two children were created equal.

She'd gone willingly and without looking back, as expected. They sent a school bus and Ava, even now, in second grade, had trembled a bit before climbing aboard, but Ella had led Bentley onto the bus and taken the front row seat. Spencer had watched the bus drive away and had had to resist the urge to follow behind it, peer into Ella's kindergarten classroom from the window overlooking the playground and generally watch her daughter like a hawk. She's pretty sure she and Toby had both cried watching their girls leave them behind; who knew empty nest syndrome started so early? Ironically, before Ella's diagnosis, she and Toby had talked about having a third child; a boy, perhaps, if they were lucky enough. But after… Well. They already feel, when Ella has her bad days and needs around the clock care, as though they're neglecting their eldest child, and they could never do that to an infant. It's one of the many sacrifices they'd had to make along the way to ensure both of their girls have the lives they deserve.

And this is how life goes, now. In some ways, it's much simpler and in others, it is still so very, very hard. It's December sixteenth now, a Saturday, and they have a long day of Christmas activities planned to get themselves into the spirit of the season. Spencer, once again, feels like a failure as a parent, as she does each time Christmas rolls around again. Christmas is a little over a week away and they still haven't gotten Christmas card photos taken, they haven't decorated their tree and they've barely gotten through a single Christmas special without one of the girls losing interest and throwing a fit (usually Ella for obvious reasons). It's these things that really piss her off about Christmas with autism; these are the memories she wants her girls to have when they're older and looking back on their childhood and these are the memories that autism is preventing.

She can see it now; an adult Ava is sitting down with her own family, a husband and kids perhaps, and telling them all about the adventure that was getting a Christmas tree with her family, back in the day. _We'd all pile into the car and Ella would scream at the top of her lungs from her seat because my Mom would try to buckle her in. That's the only reason, really; she never screamed if Dad did it, only Mom. And so she'd scream and claw and scratch at Mom's face and we'd never get out of there. When we finally got on the road, Mom would start crying, because she always did whenever Ella hurt her, but it wasn't her fault; Mom's or Ella's, really. And then we'd get to the tree farm and Ella would take off and Mom and Dad would lose their minds because they didn't know where she went, and everything looked the same because it was just rows and rows of tall pine trees and when they found her, they were the terrified ones, not Ella. Ella didn't really care because Ella didn't really understand. And it was always so, so cold and I was freezing and I'd pick out a tree, but then Ella would have a complete meltdown and so Mom would have to take her back to the car to self-regulate and Dad would buy the tree I picked out and he always got me a donut or a cup of hot chocolate or a little ornament to put on the tree or something, because he felt bad and thought I was upset that the day was ruined. I never was, though. I never was. I understood_.

It's not exactly how she wants her girls to remember their childhood.

"Mom?" Ava's voice breaks her out of her reverie a moment later. "I can't find my shoes."

"Which ones?" Spencer asks. "The black ones you're wearing with your dress?"

"No!" Ava shrieks. "My snow boots! I don't want my feet to be cold. I'll change them at the mall."

"Are we going to have time for your shoe change?" Spencer smirks, starting the dishwasher and padding into the laundry room to help Ava search for her boots.

"The line is always long," Ava shrugs. "Callie Newhouse said she and her mom and dad waited for _two hours!_ "

Spencer chuckles. Kids and their hilarious concept of time. "Wow, two hours? I hope these are some _good_ pictures for that kind of time."

"I don't want to wait _that_ long," Ava counters. "He's not even the real Santa Claus."

"Momma!" A new voice exclaims, racing around the counter and into view, Bentley at her heels. "I is going outside now! I want shoes and coat, okay? I go in the snow now."

"Ella Bella, we're going outside a little bit, okay?" Spencer reasons, knowing it won't make much of a difference. "We have to get dressed before we put on our shoes and coat."

"And Daddy's in the snow?"

"We're going to meet Daddy there," Spencer says distractedly, still searching the disastrous laundry room for Ava's boots. "He's running some errands for work and he's going to meet us when he's done."

She doesn't realize what she's said until Ella lets out a cry of fury and tears at her hair. "Daddy lost Momma? Daddy gone?"

"No," Spencer shakes her head. "No, Daddy's okay. Daddy's working. We're going to see Daddy soon."

But it's much too late. Ella lets out a wail and flops onto the ground, kicking at anything in reach and ripping her hair from her skull. Ava frowns and scoots backwards, pawing through a bin of snow boots in silence and Spencer curses her carelessness. Autism confuses Ella and it always has, but she's five years old now and she's beginning to realize it. She's at an age where she's much more self-aware than she ever has been before and she knows she's different; each time she realizes it, it absolutely kills her parents to watch. This had been Spencer's fault, she knows; Ella is painfully literal and simple phrases like "meet Daddy there" or "running some errands" (or, what she'd said last night- _hold your horses_ ) didn't mean the same thing to Ella as it did everyone else. She doesn't understand; to Ella, they must speak their minds and tell her exactly what they want her to know exactly how it happens. She won't understand it any other way.

It's why they lie to her constantly. Spencer had vowed to teach her children to be honest, to always tell the truth, following a life of lies and deceit. Teaching Ava had been difficult enough, but Ella is proving to be impossible; how do they teach a child not to lie when in everyday life, this is all they do to her? It isn't about anything major, but she does have a tendency to fixate on certain aspects of her life that occasionally cannot be controlled. Whenever one of them has to run out to the bank or the grocery store or a doctor's appointment and Ella wants to know why she can't go, too, they tell her it's because they're going to work. Work is something that doesn't interest their girl and she stops asking and doesn't feel left out. Whenever she asks about her birthday party, because they'd had a bouncy house and a balloon artist and a sensory face painter, they tell her it's coming soon. Her birthday is in the summer, but time is relative to their girl and she stops asking and basks in the my-birthday's-coming excitement for a while. Whenever Ava has a friend over to play and race out into the backyard without her and Ella asks why she, too, cannot go outside alone, they tell her it's because her sister is going to school. She knows they go to different classrooms and stops asking, unaware that school is only on certain days and at certain times and that the _real_ reason is that they're afraid she'll run out of the lawn and not come back.

It's absolutely devastating to watch Ella's confusion sink into her eyes and watch as this confusion mystifies and paralyzes her until she works herself into a meltdown. Spencer aches for their girl and grows angry at the same time at all the common misconceptions of autism.

 _Those on the autism spectrum lack empathy_. Au contraire, my dear. They feel so strongly and they feel so much that it often results in this.

"Ella," Spencer soothes, reaching out to place a hand on her daughter's back. "Should we go see Daddy?"

"Daddy's hug," She's wailing, tearing at her hair. "I need Daddy's hug!"

Could Ella tell you if she needs a hug, a snack, or what she wants for her birthday? Sure.

Could Ella tell you the entire plot to _Tangled_ , her favorite movie, and sing every song, word for word? You bet. And don't ask her to unless you really, _really_ want to hear it.

Could Ella tell you how old she is, what she's feeling right now, or what she wants to do? Nope.

Could Ella tell you what her parents' names are or where she lives should she ever get lost? No way.

She'll understand the questions for the most part, if you ask her. She's verbal, she's high functioning and all that. But she won't know how to answer. And _that_ is what consistently distresses her; that is where she realizes she's different. And that is what always results in a meltdown like this one.

This one has been mild. After a simple backrub and Bentley trotting over, placing his head right by her ear, Ella allows herself to be comforted by her mother, instead. "Okay, Ella? Should we go get dressed and see Daddy?"

Ella nods, tears still cascading down her cheeks, her tiny blue eyes red and sad. "Why Momma?"

"Why?" Spencer wonders, kissing her cheek. "Because we miss him, of course. And we're going to get our picture taken with Santa Claus."

"Mommy," She cries, still so utterly distressed. "Why does I always mix up?"

And now, as usual whenever she manages to articulate something so profound, Spencer's heart breaks for their little girl. "I'm sorry, Ella. I'm sorry you get mixed up sometimes. But it's just because… It's because your brain just gets a little funny sometimes."

"No," She shakes her head. "I want my brain is not funny."

"Me too, Ells." Spencer sighs. "Me too."

The little girl wipes her eyes on her pajama sleeves and scrambles up, Bentley hot on her heels, as the two race upstairs to her bedroom. Spencer watches them go a minute, sentimental, before turning back to Ava and continuing to search for her boots. Ava's quiet as she digs through the closet before asking, "Does she know she has autism?"

"I think a part of her knows that she's different than you are, yes," Spencer chooses her words carefully. "I don't think she'll know what autism is until she's a bit older."

Ava frowns. "I liked it better when she wasn't upset. It was better when she didn't know."

"I know," Spencer agrees. "But you know what? Everyone's a little bit different. Not one person is going to be exactly the same as someone else. Isn't that special?"

Ava nods and then her eyes light up when Spencer produces her boots. "You found them!"

"Finally!" Spencer chuckles. "Now come on. Let's get you ready to go. We've got a Santa to meet!"

Ava shoves her feet into the boots before launching herself into her mother's arms, eternally grateful, and Spencer hugs her back, kissing her crown and fighting the endless battle she always fights with herself- _do not compare your girls_.

* * *

 _Hey. When you get here, we're on the bottom floor, in line for Santa right outside Macy's. Please bring coffee- this line is very long and we're already one meltdown in._

 _I'm on my way. I already got you coffee, Spence. You think I don't know you by now?_

 _You're a lifesaver. Seriously_.

He chuckles, sends her back the kissing emoji, and then tosses his phone into the cup holder, glancing up to find the light is still red. He hadn't been pleased upon the realization, this morning, that he'd forgotten two very important and yet very simple tasks for his job the evening prior. It interfered with his "no work on the weekends" policy that he was so desperate not to break. He liked to use the weekends, especially now, during the holidays, to spend extra time with his wife and daughters and whenever something arose to break this routine, he was not a happy camper. Especially today, when he'd woken up to find that their neighborhood had been blanketed with a thin layer of snow overnight. All he'd wanted to do was roll over and snuggle with Spencer, ignore the ruckus the girls would be making soon enough, and sleep for days.

But alas, he'd gotten out of bed. He's been regretting it ever since.

Things certainly haven't been perfect, but they have settled into a routine and it's something that all four of them are thriving off of; it's when they _break_ routine that things seem to go awry, which is why it doesn't completely shock him that it's only a little after eleven a.m. and Ella's already had a meltdown. He stands by what he'd told Spencer following her diagnosis; things haven't gotten any easier since then, but they have gotten better. It's a learning process, really, living with someone with a disability. Although, he doesn't quite see it as a disability; to him, Ella is a spitfire. She is a kickass little princess who just has a little trouble communicating sometimes and doesn't quite process things the way others might. He wishes everyone would see it this way. It would make life a whole lot easier for her.

Toby arrives at the mall a moment later, parking in the first spot he sees and adjusting the collar on his button down the moment he steps inside. They send out a Christmas card every year and have since before the girls were born, but since then, it's always been a struggle to get the right shot. He walks the short distance to Macy's, where shoppers are bustling about with their arms laden with their purchases, and then finds Santa, two elves and a photographer, and one very long line. Well, Toby chuckles to himself, at least they weren't the only ones getting a photo this close to Christmas. He squints but doesn't see Spencer or the girls in the crowd. Stepping closer, Toby walks the line from the beginning all the way to the very end and still does not find them. In confusion, he pulls out his phone to text her and finds she's already done so, roughly twenty minutes ago.

 _Going home because she lost it. Worst meltdown she's had in a while. She started getting physical with me and with Ava._

Toby frowns and knows exactly what this means. Turning around, he heads back out to the parking lot and types back, _I'm sorry. How is she now?_

 _Bentley is howling because she's been screaming for forty-five minutes straight_.

Toby grimaces. Unfortunately, this sounds about right for their girl. The sights, the sounds, the smells and all the unfamiliar people at the mall, not to mention however long they had waited in line, would certainly do this to her. He replies, _That's awful. Ava okay?_

 _No. Ella's been awful to her. Screaming in her face, scratching, kicking. Ella told me I'm the worst mom ever. Ava started screaming back- why can't you be normal? Everyone in the mall was staring- so quiet you could hear a fucking pin drop. I had to get them out of there._

His heart gives a painful tug. _That's heartbreaking. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?_

 _Relatively._

The drive home is quiet and tense. He's not sure what state he's going to find his household in or even where he should start. He pulls his truck into the garage beside Spencer's SUV and kills the engine, gingerly stepping into the laundry room and immediately hearing Ella's shrieks from upstairs. It's probably best if he starts with her. He climbs the stairs, carefully pushes open her bedroom door and frowns instantly at the sight before him. Ella is screaming in agony, her hands over her eyes, on her bed and her doting service animal is lying directly on top of her, using his body weight in an attempt to end her struggle with herself. She isn't crying, just screaming, and every so often she rubs Bentley's head or strokes his soft fur to remind herself that he's still there, as if he'd ever leave her side. Toby inhales a deep breath and mentally prepares himself for the worst while simultaneously hoping for the best.

"Ella Bella?" He calls softly and doesn't know what she'll do next. Scream and kick at him? Throw something? Stop her yelling and curl into an embrace?

She does none of that. She continues to scream as if she hasn't heard him; it wouldn't surprise Toby if she hasn't. Gently, he steps forward and sits down on the bed beside her, careful not to disturb Bentley. "Ella… Daddy's here."

"Daddy," She cries, but doesn't pull her hands away from her eyes. "I need Daddy's hug."

"Well come here then, kiddo, and let me give you a hug," He tells her. "Come on, Ella. It's okay."

She sits up so rapidly, it startles Bentley, who slips off of her body and barks at the disturbance. Ella begins to rock back and forth, eyes screwed shut, as a low humming sound emanates from her throat. Toby frowns. She hasn't done this much since they'd gotten Bentley and even he seems curious at the behavior. It surprises him for only a moment, however; before Toby even says a single word, Bentley curls himself against Ella, like a mold, and she falls still. She reaches an arm around his neck and hugs him fiercely and Toby smiles, wondering if there's ever been a match more made in heaven than these two. He sticks his nose against her cheek and she finally opens her beautiful eyes, rubbing his neck.

Toby feels almost as if he's intruding somehow and doesn't say a word. Bentley doesn't relieve his pressure on Ella- he always allows her to let him know when she's good again- but she, after a moment, turns over and her big blue eyes fall upon her father. "Daddy, I think I done screaming now."

"You think so?" Toby chuckles and reaches his arms out, gesturing for a hug. "Can I have a hug now?"

She scrambles into his arms and he kisses her cheek. "Are you okay, Ella?"

"I need Daddy's hug," She repeats and he grips her even tighter.

"You never have to ask for that, munchkin," He promises and kisses her again. "Should we go and play?"

"I think we play the mermaid game before," Ella replies. "Do you like cold water or warm?"

"Warm," Toby tells her. "It's too cold outside."

"No, you like cold."

"Oh, okay," He chuckles. "Let's go find Mommy and Ava and we can go decorate our tree."

He scoops her into his arms and stands, heading across the hallway to Ava's bedroom, where he finds their eldest daughter coloring at her desk. "Hey, Ava? Are you okay?"

Ava glances up hopefully at the sound of her father's voice but upon the sight of her sister in his arms, she frowns and goes back to coloring. "Yes."

He sets Ella down and she immediately turns to Bentley, saying, "I a fireman! You're my dog. Let's get the hose!"

She races down the hall and Toby is almost grateful, because he's been dying for the one-on-one with his eldest. Before he can even say a word, Ava bursts into tears and, bewildered, Toby asks, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"I was so mean to her," Ava bawls. "I didn't mean to say it but she hurt me and I wanted to see Santa and Mommy made us leave!"

"Oh, Ave," Toby says and collects her in his arms. "Come here. It's okay."

"I didn't mean it," Ava insists. "I know it's not her fault. She can't be normal and she can't help it. I know."

"I know you know," Toby comforts her, kissing her crown and stroking her hair. "I know you didn't mean it. And Ella knows that, too. You were upset and sometimes, when we're upset, we say things we don't mean."

Ava glances up at her father, her bright brown eyes swimming in tears. "You do too?"

"Honey, everyone's done it," Toby nods. "It's not good and it always makes us feel really bad after, doesn't it?"

Ava nods miserably. Toby continues, "But it's okay. You're such a great big sister. You are the _best_ one. And Mommy and I are so proud of you every single day for everything you do for your sister and everything you do for yourself. You're an amazing little girl and we're really lucky to have you. We love you so much."

"Love you too," She murmurs and holds onto him a bit tighter.

Toby grins. "Are you okay? No more tears?"

She shakes her head and he swipes under her eyes. "Do you know what tonight is?"

Ava bites her lip. "December sixteenth?"

"No, smarty pants," He teases. "Well, yes, it's the sixteenth, _but_ it's also Ava Night!"

"Wait, we had Ava Night on Wednesday?" Ava questions and he chuckles.

"Yeah we did, and we're going to have it again tonight," Toby decides and Ava grins at the prospect. "After Aunt Melissa's party."

Ava squeals, "Can we make popcorn? Can we watch _Snowed in at the House of Mouse?_ "

"We can do whatever you want," Toby promises and it's true. They try to get their one-on-one time with Ava as much as possible in an informal event they call Ava Nights. She craves and looks forward to these moments alone with her parents just as much as they do. "Alright babe. Should we go find Mommy and _finally_ decorate our tree?"

Ava nods and, hand in hand, they head downstairs in search of Spencer. She isn't hard to find; she's lying on her back on the couch in the family room, Ella in a lab coat bent over her face with Bentley right beside her. Ella exclaims, "I a doctor and Bentley's my nurse and we fixing Momma's eye."

She takes a plastic stethoscope from around her chest, knocks it gently against Spencer's left eye and announces, "All better! You want a lollipop, Momma?"

"I don't know. Was I good girl?" Spencer plays along, sitting up.

"I think so," Ella announces and leaps across the room, abandoning her play.

Toby glances at his wife, unable to gauge her mood, and when she glances back, he finally notes the black and blue bruise surrounding her eye. "Holy crap, look at that shiner. Is that what she did to you today?"

"Amongst other things," Spencer shrugs. "No one can put her in the car but you, Toby. If you think I'm helping teach her to drive someday, you've got another thing coming. I don't want to see that kid's left hook when she's sixteen."

"Let me get you some ice," Toby says and returns a moment later with a washcloth full of ice cubes, applying it to her eye. "Hopefully it goes down a bit before Monday. People at work are going to think I beat you."

"Please," Spencer waves this off. "Everyone knows Ella and how she gets. It's okay."

Toby frowns. "It's really not."

"I took it so Ava didn't have to," Spencer lowers her voice a bit as the girls begin to play together. "She aimed for her."

"Because of Santa Claus, right? And the line?"

"It was too much for her," Spencer nods. "Even Bentley wasn't enough."

He asks gently, "Are you okay?"

"Relatively," She echoes her previous sentiment. "I don't really know how to answer that."

He sighs and she takes the ice pack from him to adjust its position on her eye. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's fine," She tells him. "It's not your fault. I just feel like… This stuff happens all the time whenever we try to do- and I _hate_ this word, but- _normal_ stuff. Like last weekend when we got the tree and today with Santa, I just… It's things like this that make me feel like the worst mom in America, because I just want them to have good Christmas memories and… It's never going to happen like this."

"Spencer," Toby says. "You're the farthest thing from the worst mom in America."

"Ella told me I was today. She never lies," She smiles ruefully. "That honestly hurt more than when she punched me in the face."

"She didn't mean it. She didn't even know what she was saying," Toby tells her. "You can't let that get to you."

"Normally, I wouldn't. Normally, I _don't_ , I just…" Spencer sighs. "I don't know what it was."

"You were exhausted, emotionally and mentally," Toby suggests. "I imagine that didn't help."

"No," She agrees. "It certainly didn't."

"But you're not a bad mom. You've never been a bad mom and you're _certainly_ not the worst mom in America," He assures her. "You love your girls so much. You care for them so deeply and you give them so much. They know that. _You_ know that. We aren't going to have the typical Christmas memories that, maybe, some other family has, but we're not like that other family. And who wants to be? We're _us_ and we're pretty freaking awesome."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"Plus, we'll still have all the important memories," Toby says. "Reading them _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_ and opening presents on Christmas morning and right now, decorating the tree. Which, it seems, they've already started without us."

They both glance up to find the two girls racing around the tree, hanging ornaments on each of the branches and giggling together. When Ella struggles to reach a higher branch, Ava lifts her sister around the middle to help her out and Ella thanks her with a hug. She takes a sparkly ornament from the box beside Bentley and places it around his collar, beginning to sing 'O Christmas Bentley' and making her older sister burst into hysterics. It makes their parents grin; this is much more like the typical relationship between their girls. Toby says, "See? So what if we don't have the perfect Santa picture? We've got them. That's all we need."

"Yeah, you're right," Spencer agrees. "But I did find this advertisement online for a mall a little further away that does a special program for children with autism called Sensitive Santa and I thought maybe we could try that tomorrow?"

"That sounds good," Toby grins as the girls continue to decorate and giggle in front of them. "See? You think of everything."

* * *

Melissa's annual Christmas party always takes place days before Christmas because she always spends actual Christmas in New York with her husband's family. Last year, she'd been so oversensitive to Ella's disorder that she had texted Spencer about every single detail of her party. Did she need to take all of her decorations down? Would Ella be okay with blinking lights? Paul, Melissa's husband, has a singing and dancing Santa, but is that okay or should she put it away? What about the colors and foods? What if she didn't eat anything Melissa prepared? It had driven Spencer absolutely mad. She'd assured her sister that Ella would have Bentley should she be prone to sensory overload, that she needn't worry about every minute detail, but Melissa had lowered the music, dimmed the lights and made everything as perfect as she could possibly have made it; it looked straight from a website entitled _How to Throw an Autism-Friendly Christmas Party 101_. And yet, Ella had walked into the house, taken one glance at the LED wreath above the mantle, and completely fell apart.

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, this was _one hundred percent_ preventable and _completely and utterly_ Spencer's fault. At least, that's what Melissa had said.

This year, however, things go smoothly. Patrick and Matthew, Melissa's boys, had begun to terrorize Ava as they always do and when Matthew had reached a tentative hand towards Bentley to pet him, Ella had explained, to the best of her ability, that she's the only one who gets to touch him and that he's working. They take off down the hall after quick hellos to Peter and Veronica and when the adults are relaxing in the living room with post-dinner wine, Melissa, of course, feels the need to comment. "She's doing a lot better, you know. Ella. Last year, she completely lost it."

 _She completely lost it today, or have you not seen my face?_ Spencer bites her tongue so hard, she tastes blood. From beside her, Toby places a calming hand on her knee, seemingly having read her mind, and they have one of their unspoken conversations. _Relax. She doesn't know what she said. She doesn't know what it's like_. Spencer purses her lips, but finds herself nodding. "Yeah. I think the OT has helped because she's a lot better at communicating than she was. Bentley helps, too. She's still not one hundred percent there, but… I don't know that she ever will be. Autism kind of prevents that, you know?"

"Well at least it's not _so_ bad," Melissa says. "I mean, a friend of Patrick's has an older brother with autism and he doesn't even speak. He has to go to a special school and everything."

"We are lucky that she's verbal, but that doesn't make things any easier," Toby says and Spencer could honestly kiss him on the spot. How does he manage to articulate what she wants to say without the venom and swear words she'd use?

"No! Oh no! That's not what I was suggesting!" Melissa backpedals. "Oh God, I never know how to talk to you guys."

"Just talk to us," Spencer shrugs. "We're not any different. Ella's not, either."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Every conversation doesn't have to be about her autism, Melissa," Veronica scolds. "She's on the spectrum. We know that; we've known that for three years. Next."

Paul, Melissa's husband, joins in. "It's okay. We should move on."

"Yes," Peter agrees. "I'd really like to go on that family trip to D.C. this summer. Have either of you given anymore thought to that?"

"I don't know what the kids will be doing this summer," Melissa shrugs. "Camps, advanced classes…"

"We've never been on vacation," Spencer says and saying it sounds so, so sad. "And I think I'd rather take them somewhere fun. No offense to D.C."

"Oh, sure," Peter frowns. "Disney World, right? Typical."

"I wasn't going to start there," Spencer shakes her head, because seriously? Disney World? With autism? Give her a _fucking_ break. "But I don't know. Maybe the beach or something."

"But how can you pass up the opportunity to visit our nation's capital? Think of the educational benefits and the worldly experiences-"

"Think of all the sights and sounds and unfamiliar people that Ella would try and fail to process," Spencer cuts him off.

Melissa grins wryly. "Who's bringing up autism now?"

"I'm sorry it's my reality," Spencer rolls her eyes. "I'm not trying to make it about us. But… I don't think it's a good idea."

Peter harrumphs, "Well, I would still like to do something with all of us."

There's silence before Toby suggests, "I liked Spencer's beach idea."

Spencer grins and Veronica chuckles and moments later, the kids reappear, Matthew asking his mother if it is time to open gifts. They decide to let the kids go wild and Melissa hands a small stack of presents to each of her nieces as Spencer presents her nephews with the same. Ava is all too thrilled with the new outfits for her American Girl doll, the brand new pair of Ugg boots and a stylish outfit in zebra print, her new obsession. Ella, on the other hand, opens only one of her gifts and is much more content to play with the wrapping paper than the gift inside. As her sister and cousins compare gifts and begin to open and play with them, Ella sits almost catatonic, staring blankly at the lights on the Christmas tree and her parents share a glance. She's had it with Christmas and a meltdown is not too far off if they don't leave shortly. It's time to go.

On the drive home, both girls fall asleep and Spencer asks, "Are we going to get to have Ava Night tonight?"

"If she somehow miraculously wakes up," Toby smirks. "If not, we can move it to tomorrow and have Mom and Dad night."

"Oh god, can we? It's been way too long," Spencer says. "Can we please murder a bottle of wine? An entire bottle. I might not even share. We might need two."

He chuckles. "You deserve a whole one, Rocky."

She laughs. "Oh my god. I can't believe we're making fun of the fact that my daughter punched me in the face today."

"We have to," Toby says. "If we don't laugh, we'll cry, right?"

"Right," Spencer agrees and then hesitates, and when she turns to look at her husband, he must sense what she is about to ask. "Toby-"

"Spencer, don't. Not again."

"I wonder every single day," She sighs. "Are we doing this right? Are we doing the right thing? Are we… Are we good parents?"

Toby sighs. "And I don't know what to tell you, even now. This is probably, what? The five thousandth time you've asked me?"

"I just don't know for sure and I _have_ to," Spencer insists. "I didn't know how to be a parent when we started and I _definitely_ didn't know how to be a parent to a child with a disability. And it's just so fucking hard and I'm wondering _constantly_ if we're doing it right."

"I don't think there is a right way of doing this," Toby says. "There's certainly a wrong way."

"Yeah," She sighs. "I know everyone parents differently but… Is it okay? Are _we_ okay? Are we doing this right?"

"I don't know," Toby tells her honestly, nodding towards the backseat. "Ask them."

She glances over her shoulder, where Ava's got a sleepy grip on her American Girl doll and Ella is still sucking her thumb, and a warm and fuzzy feeling burns her insides. "I guess we're doing okay."

"We're doing just fine."

"We have _so_ much left to do before Christmas," Spencer then says. "The picture tomorrow-"

"Hopefully Sensory Santa will go well."

"- and Ava wants to bake cookies-"

"There will be plenty of time for that on Christmas Eve, right?"

"- and I have to sign up to bring something in for the kindergarten Christmas party-"

"Does it have to be themed? Something quick and easy will do."

"-and we haven't even finished decorating yet! Christmas is in nine days!"

"Spencer," Toby chuckles. "We have full time jobs, two children and a dog. You expected to still be on top of things?"

"Um, yeah, do you even know me?"

He grins. "Relax. Just sit back and enjoy. We'll take it one step at a time."

It's what they've done since receiving Ella's diagnosis. Honestly, and she has to hand it to him, it hasn't failed them yet.

 _Fa la la la la, la la la la!_


	5. oh i wish i knew how to break this spell

**Hello friends! Thank you for your response on the last chapter. I know it's not what you think of when you think of Christmas, but I'd been wanting to write that dynamic again for a while. We get back into the swing of things with this chapter and I hope you enjoy. Real life has picked up because Christmas is the busiest time of the year down here, so I'm hoping my crazy schedule won't interfere with my updates/writing, but if it does, bear with me. The mouse waits for no one. :P**

 **Today's chapter is themed off of "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Thank you for reading and have a great day! :)**

* * *

oh i wish i knew how to break this spell

The clock strikes eleven, the snow is falling quite heavily outside and she'd meant to leave an hour ago.

"Okay," Spencer sighs, moving to disentangle herself from her boyfriend's arms immediately. "I really need to go."

"You said that an hour ago," Toby teases, yawning. "And yet, you're still here."

"Because you're being persuasive," Spencer groans and Toby chuckles. "But really. I have to go to school tomorrow."

"But it's freezing out there," Toby points out. "And it's so nice and warm in my loft… In my sweatshirt you're still wearing…"

"It's cozy," She defends herself. "It doesn't matter. I need to go."

"It's already past your bedtime," Toby says. "You might as well stay."

"Ha, ha," Spencer rolls her eyes and stands, stretching. "How long have we been sitting here?"

"Since, like, three," Toby says. "We took a break to eat, though, so it's not _that_ bad."

"Ugh, yes it is!" Spencer shakes her head. "When did I become this sedentary? Remember when we used to work out together and go for runs and stuff? What happened to that?"

"It's the middle of freaking December," Toby tells her. "It's the storm of the century outside and it's like twelve degrees. You can run in that if you want to but I'm going to sit here and watch it from my window, thank you very much."

"Okay, you're right," Spencer says, slipping on her shoes. "But the first thing spring hits, we are getting back out there."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

She smirks. "Come walk me out?"

"I'm not going out there," Toby shakes his head. "Come on, just stay a little bit longer. I'll make hot chocolate."

She hesitates. "I _do_ love hot chocolate."

"I know you do," Toby grins and stands, mirroring her stretching before heading for the kitchen. "Don't think I don't know the way to your heart."

"I have to take it to-go, though," Spencer says and he shoots her a look.

"What do I look like to you? Starbucks?"

"I really have to go, Toby," She pleads with him. "It's so late. It's only going to get colder and snowier."

"Which is why you should just _stay_ ," Toby says, bringing a pot of water to a boil. "I'm making hot chocolate now so you might as well."

Spencer laments. "I can't. You know I would rather be here, but…"

"And you are here," He points out. "So _stay_."

She contemplates this, twirling her keys on one finger. "Yeah…"

"Besides," Toby adds. "I don't want you driving in that. It's way too dangerous. There aren't even any plows out. Isn't that enough to tell you to stay put?"

"I guess," Spencer sighs. "But when have I ever listened to reason?"

"Ah, right, I forgot. No one tells you what to do," Toby stirs the steaming liquid, shaking his head. "Spencer Hastings, you are a huge pain in the ass."

"Wow, never heard that before," She jokes and reaches for her coat, pulling it on over Toby's sweatshirt. "Thank you for having me over on this lovely, albeit snowy, evening. It's been really, really nice to just get away from everything for a while."

"Would you take that off?" Toby gestures towards the pea coat now covering her frame. "You're not going anywhere."

"I _have_ to!"

"You don't have to," He insists. "Do you even want to?"

"Of course not," Spencer shakes her head. "Of course I want to stay here."

"So… do it?"

"I can't," She repeats. "My mom's home. She'd _flip_. Plus, I texted and told her I'd be home by eleven and since it's after eleven, she's bound to worry, right?"

"Text her back," Toby says. "Tell her your car's snowed in."

"And what? I have to stay here? She'd _freak_ if she knew we were sleeping together."

"Uh, newsflash- she probably already knows," Toby chuckles. "For one, she's walked in on us making out more times than I can count."

"That's just kissing! That's not-"

"Second, you come over _all_ the time and stay for a while," He continues. "What, does she think we just watch Netflix or play board games in that time?"

"Sometimes we do!" Spencer exclaims. "How dare you treat Scrabble like that."

"And third," Toby goes on. "There is no _way_ your father hasn't told her what he saw."

"Oh god," Spencer groans. "It always comes back to that with you, doesn't it?"

"Until my dying day," He says. "I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The shame! The embarrassment!"

"Yes," She rolls her eyes, sarcastically saying, "How _dare_ you take a shower in your own home!"

"Um, _I invited you to come with me!_ " His eyes are wide as if he cannot grasp how she doesn't understand the humiliation. "In front of your father! While you were wearing my underwear! While I was _basically naked!_ "

"Got it. Yeah, I was there," Spencer laughs. "And it's over. It's been months."

"Right," Toby nods. "Which means your mother probably already knows."

"For my own sanity, I have to believe that isn't true."

"Alright, fine," Toby gives in. "Tell her, if you must, that I gave up my bed in a fit of gallantry and took the couch so you could get your coveted rest for your very important day of school tomorrow. I did not touch you- we didn't even kiss goodnight."

"Please," She smirks. "Like she'd ever believe _that_. She's seen us; we're never _not_ touching."

"That's because I like you," He says, stepping closer and reaching for the buttons on her coat, slowly undoing each one. "I _love_ you. I want some more of you."

She chuckles. "What?"

"It's a Tim McGraw song from, like, 1995," Toby explains. "Sorry, I now realize you were an infant when it came out."

"Which would make you, what, like two?" She chuckles. "You're only a year older than me."

"Ah, yes, and I have so much more wisdom because of it," He says. "But where was I?"

"You were serenading me with some kind of country nonsense."

"Right," Toby grins and continues to remove the coat from her frame, tossing it aside. "See, the thing is… I can't be around you and _not_ touch you. I want to put an arm around you, stroke your hair, hold your hand. I want to wrap you up in a big hug and just hold you for hours; you know that feeling, right? Where you just want to hold someone for about three hundred years? I want to do that. And I want to kiss you; I _always_ want to kiss you. I want push your hair back away from your face, like this…"

He demonstrates and her breathing grows shallow. He grins as if he's anticipated this. "And then I'll move a little closer… Frame your face with my hands, like this… And then I'll…"

"Kiss me," She whispers, eyes closed, and he smiles wickedly before dropping his hands and stepping away, back towards the cocoa on the stove.

"No. I promised your mom I wouldn't touch you, right?" Toby eyes her and she peels her eyelids open, not amused in the slightest. "We're never _not_ touching. Got to get some practice in."

"You're a fucking tease," Spencer exhales exasperatedly and he laughs. "And you're way too good at stalling."

"Well, A- I learn from the best," He grins cheekily at her and she purses her lips, knowing he's right. "And B- I'm not stalling. I'm just waiting for my cocoa to be ready. It's almost there. Needs a bit more milk."

She frowns. "If this is how you planned on getting me to stay, it wasn't a very good plan. I'm still leaving."

"No you're not."

"I am," Spencer nods. "My mom isn't the only one home; my dad is, too. For some reason, they're both in the same state and under the same roof again."

"Must be back together for the season," Toby says. "Christmas is soon; eight days away. Can you believe it's the seventeenth already?"

"Sure," She shrugs. "Anyway, if my father ever knew I was here this late, he'd come over here himself to bring me home."

"You wouldn't go," Toby smirks. "You weren't going to go the last time he found you here."

"Yeah, because he was lying to me about everything," Spencer frowns. "He probably still is."

"Well then, in that case," Toby says. "I don't think you staying a little longer is such a big deal."

Spencer considers this. "Maybe not. But they're still going to be pissed at me."

"No they won't. It's a safety concern," Toby says. "It's not safe for you to be on the roads right now, with them as messy as they are. You have to stay. You don't have a choice."

"Yeah," She sighs and glances out the window. "It's really, _really_ coming down out there."

"Yup. It is," Toby agrees, pouring the cocoa into two mugs and topping each with tiny marshmallows. "Here. Sit."

She accepts her drink and follows him to the couch. "Okay. _One_ drink. One."

"Let's put a movie on," He suggests as they snuggle back into one another. "Anything you want."

"I said one drink, not twenty," She says. "I don't have enough time for a whole movie, Toby."

He sips at his mug, eyeing her. "Why do you want to leave me so badly?"

"I don't! I really don't." Spencer insists, a hand on his. "I don't ever want to leave you. I just have to. There's a difference."

"You don't have to," He disagrees. "You came here from school. I imagine the roads work both ways."

She rolls her eyes. "And anyway, you always leave _me_ and I never ask you why."

"Because you know why," He frowns. "I'm not leaving you because I want to. I have to work, Spencer. I've got to pay the bills. Being an adult sucks. You'll understand that, someday."

"Again, you're a year older than me."

"Still counts."

She smirks. "I hate it when you leave me, too. Now you know how it feels."

"Ouch," He says, shaking his head. "So you're just doing this to get back at me, then?"

"Well, I wasn't at first, but now that you mention it…" She trails off, grinning, but at the look on his face, it falters the tiniest bit. "I'm kidding. You know I'm kidding. Sometimes we're together all day and I still don't think that's enough time with you."

"I know what you mean," Toby agrees. "You leave the loft sometimes and it's like… It's just so empty. So lonely."

"I didn't know you felt like that," Spencer frowns. "I thought you loved living on your own."

"No, don't get me wrong," Toby nods. "I hated living in my house after my mom died. It was just… a tomb. And I do love living here; I love having my own place. But living alone? That part kind of sucks."

"I really had no idea you felt that way," Spencer says. "I'm the worst girlfriend ever."

"No you're not."

"I am!" She exclaims. "God, we spend _so_ much time dealing with my problems, we never get any time for yours!"

"It's not a big deal," He insists. "We're talking about it now, aren't we?"

"It is a big deal," She disagrees. "Tell me more. Tell me more things that are going on in your life that we never get to talk about because we're always dealing with my bullshit."

"Um," Toby falters. "I don't know."

"Come on! There's got to be something," She says. "Did something funny happen at work? Did that one barista at The Brew hit on you again? Have you spoken to your parents lately?"

"My dad did call last night, actually," He says. "Right after I talked to you."

"And?"

"He asked if I was coming to Christmas dinner," Toby replies simply. "I haven't made up my mind yet so I didn't know what to tell him."

"What do you mean?" Spencer asks. "Why wouldn't you go?"

He merely looks at her and her eyes widen in understanding. "Oh. Because _she's_ going to be there."

Toby's quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you think I should tell my dad what she did to me?"

"Are you ready for that?" Spencer wonders. "Because I don't think you should do anything you're not ready for."

He grins at her. "You're really good at giving advice, you know that?"

"Oh my god, please. I'm the _worst_ at it," She disagrees. "The girls tell me that all the time. Well, not Aria. But Em and Hanna. Aria seems to think I'm some kind of wizard."

"Well, I wouldn't say wizard, but you are pretty amazing," Toby says. "I'm so lucky to have you."

She grins. "I'm so lucky to have _you_."

He glances at their mugs and notes they're growing empty. Toby hands her the TV remote and says, "Here. Put a movie on while I pour."

"No, no, I've got to go now." Spencer says. "I promised you a drink and I had a drink. I really do need to be getting home. My parents are going to freak out. I said I left your house over an hour ago."

"Have they texted you?" Toby asks and when she checks her phone, it's silent. "There you go. Text _them_ , say you're staying and that you're safe and sound. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know that," Spencer smiles. "You're my safe place to land."

"See?"

"But that's not good enough for them," She says. "They still think they can protect me from everything, which is laughable since they're never actually ever home to do so."

Toby frowns. "I'm sorry."

"It's whatever. They've done it my whole life," Spencer shrugs. "Let me wash this before I go. I don't want you to have to do extra dishes on my behalf."

"No need. You're not going anywhere," Toby says. "Look at the snow. Are you looking at it? It's a freaking blizzard. You can't even see five feet in front of you."

Spencer shakes her head. "What are your neighbors going to think?"

"It's a loft. I don't have neighbors."

"Okay, your landlord and the baristas at The Brew," Spencer counters. "If I come down the stairs tomorrow morning in the same clothes I wore today, what are they going to think? What are they going to say?"

"Spencer, you _live_ at The Brew. They know you, they know we're dating, and no one is going to give a single shit that you stayed over," Toby explains. "And since when do you care what other people think? You've never cared a day in your life."

"Still," She goes on. "I can't just stay here. I don't have anything to wear to bed-"

"Since when has that ever stopped you? You're _always_ stealing my clothes!"

"I don't have anything to wear to school tomorrow-"

"Again with the clothes," Toby chuckles. "You practically _live_ in my clothes. Wear the same jeans you wore today and pick a shirt, any shirt. They always look better on you, anyway."

"I don't have any toiletries or makeup-"

"I have an extra toothbrush. We can share toothpaste," He lists. "And you don't need makeup. You're beautiful the way you are."

She smiles at him. "Thank you. But still. I can't do it."

"You can. You just won't."

"I want to," Spencer laments, biting her lip and leaning closer. "I want to just say 'fuck it' and snuggle in with you, right here, and watch a movie, maybe a nice holiday one? Or maybe something romantic and black and white? Or how about both? _Holiday Inn_ or _It's A Wonderful Life_ does this quite nicely. And then I want to get ready for bed, take off this sweatshirt and everything else. Maybe put on a t-shirt of yours and a pair of your boxers? Maybe the pair you're wearing right now?"

Her hand dips lower, to the waistband of his jeans and he nods rapidly, pupils large with desire. "And then?"

"And then we'll cuddle on your bed," Spencer continues, leaning closer still, so her breath echoes warm off his lips. "And I'll kiss you goodnight… Just like this…"

She presses a feather light kiss to his lips and just before he can start to kiss back, she jumps back and stands, heading for the door. "But I can't. Because I have to go."

"You are such a tease," He groans. "Okay, I deserved that. I deserved that. You got me for earlier; we're even. Now come back."

He follows her, catches her hand and clutches it in both of his own. "It's almost midnight, Spencer. By the time you drive through this awful snow, get back home and get in bed, it'll practically be time to get up for school."

"That's because _you_ keep distracting me," Spencer says. "And _you_ keep stalling me and _you_ keep making me want to stay. Another time. But I've got a huge French test first period and a paper due in English and I need to my rest. Goodnight, Toby."

"Spencer-"

"Goodnight, Toby."

"This is so insulting," He tries next. "I invite you over here, we're having this great time, and then you just want to up and leave."

She chuckles, re-buttoning her coat. "We've been together all afternoon and night. It's not like I'm blowing you off."

"This hurts. This physically hurts me."

"Oh my god. _Now_ who's being the dramatic one?"

She opens the door to the loft, then, and a burst of snow and cold air enters and they both shiver. Toby shakes his head, "Babe, it's _freezing_ out there."

"It's so cold outside," Spencer whines, gripping her coat more firmly. "This is going to suck."

"Then don't go."

"I have to."

"You don't, though."

"I do. It's cold-"

"I have heat and blankets."

"It's snowing-"

"And a roof over our heads."

"I need sleep-"

"I have a bed too, funnily enough."

"It's late and I'm going to be _so_ tired tomorrow."

"And how very convenient that I live over a coffeehouse, huh?" Toby grins. "I'll drive you to school. Pick you up, too."

"Why?" Spencer asks, amused. "So we can come back here and repeat this all over again?"

"But look at this ridiculous snowstorm!" Toby exclaims, motioning over the balcony to her car, which is barely visible through the onslaught. "You're going to waste time digging out your car anyway."

"Toby, the answer's no. I've got to-"

"Do what? Freeze to death while you try to dig out your car?" He asks. "Catch your death of pneumonia out there? The snow is up to your fucking knees."

Spencer's eyes widen. "Did you just swear at me?"

"Damn right," Toby nods. "This is not a game. Take off your coat, close the door and _just stay here with me_."

Spencer sighs. "It's cold outside."

"It's below freezing, yes."

"It's the storm of the century, too."

"There's at least a good three or four feet of snow."

She concedes, closing the door and peeling off her coat. "At least I can say that I tried."

"Holy crap, really?" Toby asks, a bit bewildered. "You're really going to stay?"

She shoots him a look and he backpedals. "No, I just… I never thought you'd _actually_ say yes."

"I give up," Spencer shakes her head. "You're right. This weather is fucking ridiculous and your loft is closer to the school than my house, anyway, and I'd rather sleep with you in your bed than alone in mine."

Toby grins. "That took _a lot_ of convincing."

"I'm a stubborn pain in the ass," Spencer recites. "Isn't that what you always tell me?"

They drain their mugs of cocoa, wash the pot and mugs and then ready themselves for bed. When she joins him moments later, she crawls across the bed to place a proper goodnight kiss upon his lips and he's breathless and pleased when he asks, "What was that for?"

"It was a thank you," She says. "For caring enough to go on a long, tireless journey to get me to stay. And because I felt bad for teasing you, earlier. You deserve a real kiss."

"Oh, well then by that logic, I suppose you do, too," Toby replies and kisses her lovingly. "I'm sorry I was so persistent."

"I'm sorry I was so annoying."

They both grin and indulge in another kiss. She then says, "I'm going to have a hell of a time digging my car out tomorrow before school."

"I already told you I'd drive you."

"I parked _right_ next to you," She smirks. "You really think your truck doesn't look exactly the same?"

"Oh," Toby frowns. "Fair point."

"Ugh," Spencer groans. "It's almost one a.m. I don't even want to think about the fact that I have to get up for school in five hours."

"I'll get up first." He promises. "I'll get you coffee."

"You don't have to do that. You're off tomorrow, aren't you? You should sleep."

"You don't get to sleep, so why should I?"

"You're a weirdo," Spencer tells him, yawning in exhaustion. "But you're my weirdo. And I love you."

Toby chuckles. "I love you, too. Get some sleep."

The snow is still falling, miraculously, at six a.m. School is canceled.

Grinning victoriously, Spencer rolls over, snuggles further into Toby's chest, and gets a few more magical hours of shut eye with her sweetheart.

 _Baby, it's cold! Baby, it's cold outside!_


	6. sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

**Hello again! Wow this is going by fast and Christmas is rapidly approaching. It's a week away! Whaaaat. And this story is half over! Whaaaaaaat. And I'm running on barely any sleep because that holiday Disney cast member life! Whaaaaaaaaaat. Lmfao are you sick of me yet? Holy hell I couldn't be any more annoying. SO YEAH. Thanks for being wonderful and for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I love you all a metric fuck ton. :D  
**

 **This chapter is themed after "Winter Wonderland," something that does not exist down here in Florida (seriously... it's 87 degrees today) and I miss greatly. Have a wonderful day! :D**

* * *

sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Of course! I've been to New York _loads_ of times."

"Loads?"

"Okay, three times, but still. You've _never_ been. This is a huge deal."

"Sure. I just, you know, thought we were going to make it _before_ the show started."

"Ha, ha. You've got to have more faith in me, Toby. I haven't gotten us lost yet."

"Well that's not exactly true, is it? I have no idea where we are."

"Of course you don't! You've never been to the city!"

Toby has to give her that one. He's not sure how that's true, to be honest. He's twenty-seven years old and he's not _once_ been to New York City before this afternoon. They'd almost gone, once, when he was seven, to see a show and go to dinner with his grandparents, but his mother hadn't been feeling well and his father hadn't wanted to make the long drive and thus, Toby had missed out. It's partly why he had wanted to make this trip in the first place; he'd never been before and he'd never been the audacious type but with Spencer, he was always ready for new experiences, always up for a new adventure. The other part of him had wanted to make the pilgrimage just because of all the things Spencer had told him about New York at Christmas time; the sights, the sounds, the snow and the tree at Rockefeller Center. All of these things sounded so magical, so festive, and so enticing and the moment they stepped off the train at Penn Station, Toby had completely understood what all the fuss was about.

He'd surprised her with the trip this morning; a nice, long weekend in the city while they played hooky from their real, adult lives. She'd been excited to have today and Monday off work and had allowed herself to sleep in this morning, so Toby had taken the opportunity to make her a cup of coffee and stick the train tickets beneath it. Upon awakening, she'd squealed with delight and kissed him and asked what he had planned, but he decided to leave most of the planning up to her. Besides the show tonight, he hadn't made any concrete plans because he'd wanted them to be able to enjoy a weekend that wasn't structured, for once. She had wholeheartedly agreed and seemed fairly grateful for the novel idea. And so, since their arrival roughly two hours or so prior, they had checked into their hotel, unpacked a little and marveled at the large, cozy bed, the whirlpool tub and the fireplace (a fireplace! In a hotel room! They hadn't quite been able to get over that one yet), and then visited Times Square for the full tourist experience before heading back to ready themselves for their big date night.

They're attending this evening's performance of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and it's actually something neither of them has done before. Turning the corner, the marquee gleams red in the distance and Spencer grins victoriously. "See? I told you; I know what I'm doing. And you thought we were lost."

"I did not say that. I just wondered," He shrugged. "We seemed to pass that one Starbucks every five minutes."

"No, there's literally one on every corner," Spencer smirks. "I doubt it was the same one."

"The city is _loud_ ," Toby comments as they cross the street and cabs honk despite them having the walk signal, drivers hanging out of windows to scream obscenities. "Way louder than Philly ever has been."

"Yeah. It's really dirty, too, and expensive and people are _not_ nice," Spencer says. "But I don't know. During the holidays? It's just beautiful."

"It is," He nods. "I like all of the wreaths and the garland. They go all out."

She agrees and then grows giddy with excitement. "We're almost there! This is going to be so great. It was a really good idea!"

"Thanks," He chuckles. "It's something I thought would be nice and festive for the season."

"The Rockettes are the best part of the Thanksgiving parade," Spencer says. "Other than that… I mean, yeah, it's nice to see some of the balloons I grew up watching and Santa is always cute, but they never feature recognizable Broadway shows anymore and the musical guests are either _really_ old or so new I've never heard of them."

Toby grins. "You just described the parade to a T."

"Thank you," She says. "I've been watching it my whole life. It's my observation up to this point."

"Well, I think the show's going to be great," Toby replies. "And if it isn't… Well, at least we got out of the cold for a while."

"Yeah," Spencer shivers as they reach the music hall and join the slow-moving line. "You would think it would be warmer here than home because it's further south and closer to the water, but no. It's still cold as balls."

He laughs. "We have more snow at home than this, though. But yes, it's freezing. But you're also, you know, wearing _that_."

Gesturing towards her little black dress that falls just above her knees, her bare legs and her heels, he teases, "I'm surprised you're not a Popsicle already. That coat and scarf _cannot_ be enough to keep you warm."

"I'm fine," Spencer insists. "I wanted to look nice, okay? We're going to the _theater_ in the _city_. That's a very formal occasion, you know."

"Yes, I'm gathering that." Toby smirks. "Well, you look beautiful. At least you've got that going for you."

She grins and, with her heels they're the same height, so she can reach his lips easily, now. She kisses him and says, "Thank you. You're way too good to me."

"We needed this," Toby shakes his head, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. "When was the last time we went on a date?"

Spencer bites her lip, considering. "I don't know. We even skipped our anniversary this year. We're awful."

"I mean, we didn't _skip_ it," He says, smiling at the memory. "We had a lot of sex and we ate cake in bed. That's all I remember."

"Yeah," She giggles. "Because that's all we did."

"Okay, well…" He trails off, grinning. "Maybe sometime over the summer? I don't know. We haven't gone on a date in a while. We haven't really gotten _out_."

"We've been busy," Spencer shrugs. "And when we're not working, we're home on the couch with some sort of alcohol and Netflix. God, that's so pathetic. Are we boring? We're boring, aren't we?"

"Oh come on, you and me?" Toby shakes his head, rubbing her arm reassuringly. "We could never be boring."

"We've been together for, like, ten years though," She sighs, unconvinced. "Oh well. I guess it was bound to happen."

"Wow. Ten years," He remarks. "I know it's been that long, but it really sounds crazy when you say it out loud."

Spencer grins at him as they approach the door to the theater. "Sick of me yet?"

"You bet," He nods and she laughs out loud, her head thrown back in glee. "That's secretly why we're here- I came here to leave you in the city and now you're on to me and I have to come up with a new plan."

"I knew it," She wipes tears of joy from her eyes, wary of her mascara. "I knew you were trying to get rid of me. You're going to leave me for that girl in your office, aren't you? The one who's obsessed with you?"

"Ugh," Toby groans, no longer enjoying the joke. "I don't want to think about Tessa right now."

"Oh, why not? _Infinite X's and O's!_ " Spencer mimics, as this is how his colleague signs every single email and text, and Toby cringes hard. "You've always made fun of me for my not-so-secret admirers; Wren, Andrew and the like. I have to say, it's _much_ more fun for me to be on this side."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, because I am not," Toby replies and again, Spencer laughs. "It's borderline harassment at this point."

"It is not," She shakes her head. "She's never _done_ anything. And wishing she was with you is not a crime. You think I don't know how lucky I am? She is missing out _hardcore_ and I am going to milk that for all it's worth."

Toby glances at her and a warm grin spreads across his lips. "You are?"

"Yes. _Hell_ yes," Spencer nods. "I mean, she obviously sees the same thing I do when I look at you. You're smart, hardworking, loyal, caring, endlessly generous and loving, hysterically funny and very, _very_ easy on the eyes."

He glances away, handing their tickets to the usher. "Stop it."

"Seriously," She shrugs, accepting a program with a quick word of thanks. "Who _wouldn't_ want to be with you? Tessa can eat her fucking heart out."

"How did she enter the conversation, again?" Toby asks as they take their seats. "Can she go back out the way she came in?"

Spencer smirks. "I'm just saying."

"We're on a date hundreds of miles away and you're talking about a girl I work with who has a crush on me."

"Uh, it's a little more than a crush. She's like two seconds away from making a t-shirt with your face on it and wearing it under all of her clothes."

Toby chuckles. "People don't really do that."

"Middle school kids do," Spencer corrects him. "And judging by the look of that girl, she hasn't left the seventh grade."

"Anyway," Toby rolls his eyes. "Are you hungry? Can I get you anything? I know we have dinner later, but if you want something now…"

"No, I'm good," She shakes her head, peeling off her coat and settling in. "These seats are amazing. Any closer and I think we'd get kicked."

Toby chuckles. "I got a good deal on them, too. People must not be coming to shows this close to Christmas."

"They probably have other things to do," Spencer agrees. "But that's fine with me. More room for us!"

"Yeah," Toby says. "Can't complain about that."

The lights dim, the orchestra begins their opening number and the theater falls silent. In moments, the stage is filled with the performers; live singers, the spectacular Radio City Rockettes and, to their own surprise, Santa Claus even makes an appearance. It's a glorious show, filled with singing and dancing, high kicks, flounces and thrills. As they sing about the wonders of New York at Christmas time, it only fuels their excitement and sense of adventure even further. At one point during the show stopping finale, Toby glances over to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend, whose eyes are wide with wonder as if a child again, and he can't keep the sappy grin from his face upon the sight of her. He's so lucky to still be with this beautiful girl and there's something about the holidays that just makes him appreciate her even more than he usually does.

Upon the conclusion of the show, after they've given everyone- cast and crew alike- thunderous applause, they bundle themselves once more and head for the door, unable to stop talking about the fantastic entertainment that they had just seen. To their wondrous surprise, it had begun to snow while they were inside, and it's just beginning to stick as they exit. They have dinner reservations at the restaurant in their hotel, but the new fallen snow has made hailing a cab impossible and one look at the almost pleading look in Spencer's eyes has told Toby that, despite the cold, despite the precipitation and the length of the walk, despite the lack of appropriate footwear on her part, they're going to walk home. They don't pay any of this any mind at all; across the street, a horse-drawn carriage trots in the opposite direction, sleigh bells jingling as the passengers take in all the majestic sights around them. The streetlights cast almost a glistening glow upon the falling snow and it is simply beautiful. Toby doesn't feel the cold, the snow, or the biting winter chill. In fact, with the jingling bells and the swirling snowflakes and Spencer's hand in his, all he feels is peace.

"You know what I love about New York at Christmas time?" Spencer says after a moment and he glances at her, shaking his head. "It's that everyone for once is so _happy_ and everything looks like a postcard. The wreaths, the garland, the snow… And people are all around wishing you a merry Christmas. In two weeks, when Christmas and New Year's are over, everyone will go back to being grumpy and impatient. But right now… Everyone's in a good mood. And I love that."

"That _is_ refreshing," Toby agrees. "And surprising to hear coming from the Grinch."

"I am not the Grinch!" Spencer swats at him and he amends his statement.

"Sorry. Do you prefer Ebenezer Scrooge?"

"Oh my god. I don't hate Christmas! I love Christmas!" She insists and upon the look on his face, she frowns. "You're thinking of senior year of high school, aren't you?"

"'Toby, we shouldn't exchange gifts this year'," He mimics. "'How about just a gesture or something?'"

"Good Lord, I was out on bail for murder if I could just remind you of that for a second," She rolls her eyes. "And the gesture thing was _your_ idea. _And_ yours sucked."

"Wow, thanks," Toby chuckles. "Sorry we can't all pull off the thigh-highs."

She grins. "What _you_ were wearing wasn't the problem. It was the company you were in."

"Yeah, I know. Strange to see your ex-English teacher in Santa boxers, huh?" Toby asks and she shudders at the memory. "High school was a strange time for both of us."

"That's not something I'll _ever_ be able to forget," Spencer shakes her head. "At least Aria finally dumped his ass."

"Yeah, finally," Toby nods. "And she's soon going to become your half-sister-in-law. Is that right?"

"I guess," Spencer shrugs and it's strange, yes, that Jason and Aria had found a way to make it work, but they're both happier than Spencer's ever seen, so it all works out. "She's pretty much already my sister so we might as well make it official."

"It's going to be interesting," He comments. "I've never been to a destination wedding before."

"Yeah, me either," Spencer says. "They reconnected in Rio, though, so I guess it would make sense that they'd want to get married there. You've never been, right?"

"Excluding my short stint in London, I've never left the country."

"Rio is _wild_ ," Spencer tells him. "Lots of sunshine, lots of great people, lots of clubbing and _lots_ of tequila. Ever done a body shot?"

"A what?" He asks incredulously and she laughs. "You're the one who went to a party school, Spence, not me."

She gasps. "I did _not_ go to a party school! How dare you."

"You were ranked, what? Number three? Number four on the list?"

"We were number six, thank you very much," She shakes her head disapprovingly. "Study hard, party harder, I guess."

"Well, it ought to be a good time either way," Toby says and she grins, agreeing.

"Yeah. Bring it on."

They walk on, closing in on their hotel in the distance, and Toby can't get over how incredibly happy he is, right here, in this very moment. The night is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and his girlfriend is beautiful; he's so overwhelmingly in love with this wonderful girl to the point where he can barely come to terms with how lucky he is. He knows the holidays are a perfect time to count your blessings, be thankful for what you have and appreciate the company of those around you and Toby is well prepared to do just that. They've been together since their adolescence, they've been together _ten years_ , and yet, that time, somehow, seems almost intangible. It seems like forever and it seems like mere seconds, but he can't imagine even a moment going by without her by his side.

They dine in the restaurant to the left of the lobby of their hotel, feasting on the finest of fares until they're full and then heading up to the rooftop lounge to watch the stars twinkle and the snow fall to the ground below. It is the most magical of evenings and Spencer tells him that this is the best surprise he's ever given her, that it's already the most amazing weekend of her life, and that he couldn't possibly top today; Toby's pretty sure he's going to prove her wrong, for he's got a few more tricks up his sleeve for the following day. There's a thick, fluffy layer of snow when they wake on the morning of the eighteenth, but it's warm today, nearing forty, and the icicles outside their window are already melting, so they're sure the snow is soon to follow. Deciding to indulge, they order a room service breakfast and eat in bed, sharing fruit and pastries before getting themselves ready and heading out for a day of adventure.

It's a window-shopping-through-SoHo kind of day; they grab coffees to warm their insides before browsing through different Christmas sales and displays throughout the neighborhood. Spencer picks up a few things for her friends, finishing her Christmas shopping, and Toby's never been a huge fan of shopping, so he's content just to be along for the ride. They make a pit stop to drop off their purchases at the hotel and warm up the tiniest bit before setting back out to visit Rockefeller Center and the grand, iconic Christmas tree. Patiently, they wait their turn for a photo in front of the tree before marveling at its size and grandeur, taking nearly a dozen pictures. And Toby's not sure he'd do it for anyone else- actually, he _knows_ he wouldn't- but somehow, Spencer convinces him to go ice skating on the rink at Rockefeller Center and he's not coordinated in the slightest, but they do it anyway. He ends up slipping and sliding all over the place, gripping onto her arm for dear life, as she glides beautifully and gracefully beside him.

Now, they're strolling through Central Park, and the air has grown colder and the snow is still thick and crunching beneath their boots. Halfway through the meadow, Spencer says, "We should build a snowman."

"A snowman?" Toby asks. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were still in grade school."

"Come on! It'll be fun!" She insists. "When's the last time you built a snowman? Honestly?"

"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "Probably when I was a lot younger, maybe five or six, with my mom."

"With your mom?" Spencer smiles. "That's so cute."

"Well yeah, I mean, I didn't have any friends," He shrugs and at the look on her face, he says, "I didn't say that to bum you out, I'm sorry. It's just the truth."

"Yeah? Well the truth bums me out," She frowns. "You have plenty of friends now."

"I do."

"And I'm always your friend."

"You're my best friend."

She beams. "Then let's do it! Let's build a snowman!"

"Okay," He chuckles. "But I don't have an old silk hat or a corn cob pipe."

"Well, he won't come to life, but he'll still be legit," She shrugs. "And smoking kills, so it's best we leave that out."

"Ah, thinking of his health. Very nice, very nice," He comments and then asks, "Should I get started on the base?"

"Sure," She nods her agreement. "I'll start the middle section."

He kneels down and sticks his gloved hands into the snow, packing it into a ball and beginning to roll and roll it across the frozen ground until it resembles a pretty solid boulder. He shaves off a jagged corner and polishes a particularly angular edge until the bottom of their snowman is large and round. "What do you think of that?"

"Looks good," Spencer compliments and lifts her slightly smaller ball of snow on top. Like his, it's expertly packed and smooth. "This is going to be the world's greatest snowman."

Toby laughs. "You want to make the head and I'll go find some sticks and stones?"

"Yes please!"

She bends and begins to make a large round snowball for their snowman's head while Toby heads off in search of limbs, eyes and buttons for him. And this is probably it, he thinks; this is probably the best time. His palms begin to sweat and his gloves start to slip off his hands because of this, his heart gives off a pang of adrenaline but he tells himself as best he can to relax. When he returns from his jaunt, he gives Spencer the handful of stones and their snowman has finally taken form. Toby sticks the branches into the sides and fiddles a bit with the left one as Spencer places each stone into its new rightful home, as eyes, nose, mouth and buttons. Fittingly, she sings, " _In the meadow, we can build a snowman. And pretend that he is Parson Brown._ "

She grins, laughing just a tad, and Toby finishes the line, stepping back to show off his contribution. " _He'll say, 'Are you married?' We'll say, 'No, man.' But you can do the job when you're in town_."

She giggles and then catches sight of something glinting in the afternoon sunlight, reflecting off the pristine snow, her laughter dying immediately. Toby's pretty sure his timing couldn't have been better, but he'd be perfectly okay if his nerves took a break. Spencer inhales a deep breath and asks, "What is that? What are you doing right now? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. What is going on?"

"You know what's going on," Toby says and plucks the engagement ring off of the snowman's stick hand. "We've been together for ten years, Spencer. Don't tell me that this is a surprise."

"I just wasn't expecting it," She says, her hands shaking when he takes them in his. "Oh god. Oh god. You're really doing this. You're really doing this right now."

"Oh I'm doing this," Toby grins and gets down on one knee despite the snow surrounding them. "Spencer- _Jesus Christ_ , this is cold!"

She laughs and there are tears in her eyes and she's shivering, partly from the cold, partly from the nerves. "Stand up, then!"

"No! It's got to be authentic!" He insists and his teeth start to chatter. "Spencer Hastings-"

"Toby, seriously, you're going to get hypothermia," She tugs on his hands in an attempt to get him to stand. "Just get up, it's fine. This isn't a romantic comedy. You don't have to be down on one knee."

"I do!"

"You don't! You're going to freeze to death before we make it to the wedding!"

"Spencer Hastings," Toby starts again, ignoring her pleas. "I love you very much and I had a whole speech prepared that detailed the greatest aspects of our relationship, but it's super long and I'm ninety-nine percent sure I'm kneeling on ice right now, so I don't think I'd make it to the end without losing all feeling in my legs."

Spencer laughs. "Just give me the Reader's Digest version, then."

"I can't imagine living a single second of my life without you," Toby tells her. "You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me and above anything else, I just want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?"

"Yes! Now will you get off the ground?" She pleads and when he does so, she frames his face in both of her hands. "Yes, of _course_ I'll marry you!"

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss and she's trembling almost as hard as he is (granted, his tremors are mostly from the cold). A few onlookers begin to clap and offer to take a few photos for the newly engaged couple and they accept graciously, showing off the ring for their friends and family. Before they leave the spot, they snap one last photo with their perfect snowman, a memory they're sure to remember for years to come. On the way back to the hotel, they pass the time making out in the backseat of the cab, the driver rolling his eyes, tapping on the glass and demanding payment the moment they arrive. They aren't the slightest bit embarrassed; not the first time (nor would it likely be the last) they'd been caught all over each other. Their suite is decorated with roses and champagne, a celebratory package Toby had set up in advance and the look in Spencer's eyes goes from zero to sixty, from appreciative and loving to sultry and lustful, real quick.

The fire is roaring from across the room hours later and they've still not come up for air. It's maybe thirty degrees outside, now, and the sun is beginning to set and the winds are picking up but they're finding ways to keep warm. Spencer shivers the tiniest bit and says, "I can't believe you were planning this the whole time."

"I planned this for _months_ ," Toby corrects her. "To you, it was a surprise weekend in the city. But for me? Engagement weekend. The only other person who knew was Caleb."

"Caleb?" Spencer implores. "You told Caleb and not one of the girls?"

"Aria's busy with her own wedding, Emily just went through that awful break up and I didn't want to parade our success in her face and Hanna? Come on, I'm not stupid," Toby smirks and Spencer chuckles. "Caleb really helped. He lived in New York for years."

"Oh, that's what he helped you with," She remarks. "I thought you meant with the proposal."

"No. Definitely not," Toby shakes his head. "I mean, come on, I love Caleb and Hanna, but their engagement story is _ridiculous_."

"And yet, somehow, so fitting," Spencer replies. "Over the top is not our scene, but it is, weirdly, theirs. I'm glad you went your own way. I can't imagine it any differently."

Toby grins and kisses her. "We're getting married."

"We are," She exclaims giddily. "What an incredible Christmas present. Good luck topping that, every Christmas from now on."

"Well, I got you a _real_ gift, Spence. Christmas isn't for another week."

"You _proposed_ to me _and_ got me a Christmas present?" Spencer asks and when he nods, she adds, "Jesus. It's not a competition, Toby."

"Whoa!" He laughs. "Who's saying that to who now?"

"Yes, yes, I'm the pot, you're the kettle, or vice versa," She jokes. "It doesn't matter because we're both black."

"As long as you realize it."

She shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. "So… What do we even do now?"

"Well, I thought we could go out and celebrate," Toby says. "Get dinner somewhere nice and-"

"No. I mean, that sounds amazing," Spencer tells him. "But I meant… We're engaged now. Should we start planning or something?"

"Slow your roll, fiancée," Toby shakes his head. "We've been engaged for two hours."

"I know," She laughs. "We should at least tell our friends, right? Should I post the picture that one woman took of us on Instagram?"

"Do you want pandemonium?" Toby asks. "The second you do that, your phone will be ringing off the hook and then you can say goodbye to our quiet long weekend in New York."

"That's true. But I feel like they should know. I mean they're practically family," Spencer shrugs and then her eyes widen. "Oh my god, our family! We have to tell our parents!"

Toby hesitates. "Yeah… That too."

"Or… We could wait," She says. "I kind of like that we're the only ones who know right now. It's like our little secret."

"You and your secrets." Toby shakes his head and leans closer to kiss her again.

When they're through, she whispers, "We're getting married."

"Yeah we are," Toby confirms. "Are you excited?"

"Are you _kidding?_ " She asks. "I've known I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you since I was sixteen. Ten years of dreaming about this wedding and now it's happening for real? I am _ecstatic_."

"Me too," He agrees. "We are going to have the most amazing life together."

"I mean, we already do," She says. "So it's only going to get infinitely more awesome."

Spencer connects their lips, this time, and when they're through, she sobers a bit to say, "Thank you so much for this weekend. I don't know how you knew that I needed this, especially before all the holiday craziness hit, but I'm grateful all the same. It's been the most amazing few days of my life."

"You're welcome," Toby replies. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself as much as I am and I can't wait for many, many more of these weekends in the years to come."

Outside, the snow swirls in the blustery winds, but inside, the future Mr. and Mrs. snuggle together by the fire, settling in to dream about the life ahead they'll share.

 _Walking in a winter wonderland…_


	7. where the love light gleams

**Good morning, good morning! Christmas is less than a week away, can you believe it? Ugh, I sure can't. It's been so crazy down here and I've been trying to get all my things in order while simultaneously trying to write for this story and keep up with my Christmas specials (because obviously it's not Christmas without your Christmas specials :P) and it's been madness! But it's okay! Because it's also the best time of the year, so I'm not going to complain about all the hectic-ness. It's still fun, somehow.**

 **This chapter is themed off of "I'll Be Home for Christmas," a song that is near and dear to my heart as I prepare to spend my third Christmas away from my home, my friends and my family. Needless to say, it's bittersweet. Thank you and enjoy!**

* * *

Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams

She gets accepted into graduate school in March.

"You have to go," Toby encourages. "It's what you've been working so hard for. These last four years have been grueling and this is your payoff."

"It's not law school," Spencer hesitates and almost looks at the acceptance letter in shame. "My parents will flip out because they think I only applied to law schools and nothing else. If I don't follow in their footsteps like Melissa-"

"You never have before. You have your father's sharp tongue and quick wit and your mother's 'take-no-shit-from-anybody' attitude and that is all you need from them," Toby tells her. "Do you want to be a lawyer?"

"Hell no," Spencer shakes her head. "I literally have nightmares about it."

"As someone who's been regularly sleeping beside you for six years, I can confirm this," Toby smirks. "But there's your answer. I think you'd be a great lawyer because you can argue _anything_ and you're intelligent and stubborn as all hell. But if you don't want to do it, then why waste your time and money pursuing something you have no desire to do?"

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense," Spencer sighs. "I don't want to tell my parents."

Toby shrugs. "Don't. Do your work, write your master's thesis and they can find out at graduation."

Spencer chuckles and brings him in for a hug. "Thank you. Honestly, what would I do without you to make all my decisions for me?"

He laughs. "I do not make all your decisions for you. Believe me, you've never had _any_ difficulty in that area."

"Before you get too excited for me," Spencer says. "I haven't heard back from a couple other schools, so I don't know… I don't know if this is the one I want."

"A couple other schools?" Toby asks and she can tell he understands. "Meaning Stanford?"

"And a couple others," She shrugs. "I highly, _highly_ doubt I'll get accepted to Stanford, let's be honest. They have one of the best poli-sci/public affairs graduate programs in the country and their acceptance rate is like less than ten percent, or at least that's what I read somewhere, and-"

"You'll get in."

"I probably won't so we don't need to discuss this yet, but-"

"You'll get in, but you're right. We don't need to discuss this yet," Toby replies and he's trying desperately to keep his voice light and happy, but she can sense the underlying tension, regardless. "We'll figure it out."

"Isn't this ironic?" Spencer laughs nervously, trying to move the situation away from the California question and more towards the acceptance letter in her hands from none other than UPenn. "Remember when they hated me?"

"They never hated you," He shakes his head. "But you were better off without them, anyway. You've loved your time at Georgetown."

"I love everything about this place," Spencer says. "Except the part where you're not here with me."

He glances at the duffle bag at his feet and nods. "That part does suck."

"But if I go to UPenn next year," Spencer reminds him. "I'll only be an hour or so away. That's a lot better and I'll be able to visit more so you won't have to do all of the commuting."

"Yeah. _If_ you go to UPenn," He shrugs. "But you'll probably get into those other schools and that's going to be something we have to discuss."

"Later," Spencer insists. "I want to go out and celebrate."

"As long as we don't have to go to that terrible bar your roommate took us to, last time."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Molly's kind of obsessed," Spencer says and locks the apartment door behind them as they head out into the night. Hand in hand and halfway down the street, she pauses to look him in the eye and when he shoots her a questioning glare, she clarifies. "I love you. You know I love you, right? No matter what happens next, I always will."

"Why are you talking like we're going to break up?" Toby asks warily and she frowns and glances at the ground. "I know you love me. I love you too. Neither of us is going anywhere. We're going to figure this out."

Spencer nods, but her frown still stands, and he says it again. "We're going to figure this out, Spencer. I know we will. We'll be okay."

"Yeah," She repeats, trying desperately to see a silver lining ahead. "We'll be okay."

* * *

Her acceptance to Stanford comes a week later.

Toby, with a little less conviction than last time, says, "Well go, obviously. This is what you want."

"I want you," She disagrees and wonders what her pre-Toby self would say about this. In what world would Spencer give up her future for a boy? "I can get this degree anywhere."

"No, you can get _a_ degree anywhere," Toby corrects her. "You can only get _this_ degree at Stanford and that's what you want."

"Stop telling me what I want," Spencer purses her lips. "You don't know everything that's going through my mind right now."

"I have a pretty good idea," He shrugs. "It's fine. We knew we were going to have to talk about this-"

"We didn't _know._ I didn't _know_ I'd get in! It was a less than-"

"Less than ten percent acceptance rate, I know," Toby finishes. "But I knew you'd get in. I've always known. So… Let's talk."

Spencer bites her lip. She's been dreading this ever since she started her senior year. "I hate talking. Serious talking, I mean."

"It's not enjoyable, no, but it's the only thing that gets things accomplished and out of the way," Toby sighs. "And we didn't do enough of it when we were in high school and look what happened because of it."

She thinks of car accidents and black hoodies, of pill addictions and two other boys, and shudders. "Okay. Let's talk. I don't want to fall apart again."

"We're not falling apart. Very far from it," He promises. "I guess… We'll just start from the beginning."

"And that is?"

"Do you want to go to Stanford?"

She hesitates and he smirks. "It's a yes or no question. Come on, you already know what you want to say."

"Yes. Of course I do," Spencer nods. "It's what I've been working towards and dreaming about for years."

"Okay, that was easy," Toby says. "See? We're partly done."

"My turn," Spencer proposes. "Do you want to come with me?"

This time, he hesitates and she mimics his previous words. "Come on. It's a yes or no question, Toby."

"It's not that simple, though," He says. "Of course I want to come with you. I can't think of anything better than getting a new start out in California and living with you and getting to actually see you on a daily basis unlike now. But…"

She frowns and tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "But what?"

"But financially, I don't know if it's such a good idea," He says and she's known all along this is what his reasoning would be. "We don't ever really talk about it, I know, but… I'm _broke_ , Spencer. Flat out broke. Picking up the odd carpentry jobs here and there has kept me fed and kept a roof over my head but that's about it. I can't just pick up my life and move to California, the most _expensive_ state in the country, with no money. And it's hard thinking about that, you know? And I don't mean this as a slight to you at all so please don't take it that way, but if you were struggling financially, your parents would help you without a doubt, no questions asked; okay, maybe _some_ questions asked, but they would help. My dad… It's like the second I moved out of his house, I moved out of his life. He doesn't see me as a responsibility anymore and wouldn't even consider helping me out. I want to come with you. You know I do. I wanted to move down here with you, to D.C. But… I don't think I can. I can barely afford Rosewood. I don't think I'll be able to afford anywhere else right now."

She nods quickly, begging her emotions to get in check, and Toby must see the sadness in her eyes, for he says, "I could maybe check into law enforcement again? They've got to need _somebody_ and the money was better than what I'm making now."

"No, don't do that to yourself. And please don't do that to me," Spencer pleads. "You hated it and I hated what it did to you and that I was the reason that you were doing it in the first place. I gave myself like seven ulcers worrying about you."

"Okay," Toby agrees. "It wasn't really ever an option but I thought maybe… I don't know. I don't know what we do now."

Spencer shrugs. "We don't have another option. I guess we go back to the long distance thing."

He frowns. "I hate the long distance thing."

"So do I, but that's our only choice," She says, her voice quiet. "The only other one is…"

"Don't even say it," Toby shakes his head. "We're not breaking up."

Her lip quivers and the tears in her eyes finally spill over. When she looks at him through wet lashes, his eyes are wide. "Why are you crying? I said we're _not_ breaking up!"

"Of course we're not," She cries, wiping at her eyes as he places an arm around her, pulling her close. " _Obviously_ we're not. We've been through _so_ much together and we love each other and… and this just sucks. I hate long distance. I hate not being able to see you when I want to see you."

"I hate it too," He agrees and for some reason, this only makes her cry harder. He rubs her shoulder, kissing her temple. "Babe, come on."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," She attempts to pull herself together and fails miserably. "I never cry like this and I'm sorry. I just…"

"You never cry at all. That's how I know how upset you are," Toby says. "But you don't have to apologize. It's okay. I know this sucks and you're graduating next month and we thought this whole long distance thing was over…"

"It's just that we're _so_ bad at it," Spencer says. "We text constantly, but how often do we actually speak on the phone?"

"Not often enough."

"Or FaceTime-"

"We're always too busy for that."

"And I always have something going on so I can't visit very often."

"You're trying to have the whole college experience and I get that."

"And you have a full-time job, so _you_ can't visit very often."

"They always seem to manage to schedule me when I want to come see you."

"And this whole thing _sucks_ ," Spencer sighs. "I can see why people break off their high school relationships. Maintaining them is _hard_ work."

Toby chuckles. "See? We're already joking about it."

"It's not funny," Spencer's visage melts back into misery. "Please just tell me you'll think about moving out there with me. I know you probably won't, but-"

"I didn't say I wouldn't," He corrects her. "I said I don't think it's the best idea. But we haven't _always_ done what's best for us, so that's something else."

"I don't want to ask you to reroute your life for me," Spencer backpedals. "I don't want you to put your life or career or anything on hold to follow me to California, but I am going to miss you way too much if you're thousands of miles away from me. I won't be able to take it."

"You're not asking me to put my life on hold," Toby disagrees. "You're in my life too, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"And our relationship is a priority, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's number one, but-"

"Then take a deep breath," Toby tells her and waits for her to do so before continuing. "And I will think it over and we'll both figure out a solution for this, even if it is just to set up a better communication and visiting schedule. We've got this. I believe in us."

"I've always believed in us," Spencer says. "I just want to cover all my bases."

* * *

She graduates in early May.

He watches from the middle of the row, in between her parents and the girls, and when she finally finds her way through the mass of confetti and balloons and straight into his arms, he lifts her up and spins her in circles. She laughs and he sets her on her feet again, straightening the mortarboard cap upon her head before adjusting the tassel and planting a loving, congratulatory kiss upon her lips. "You did it! I'm so proud of you. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," She beams and kisses him again, lingering despite the crowded arena and graduates racing to find their families. "I can't believe it's done. I can't believe I just _graduated_ college."

"You did. You just got your bachelor's degree, Spencer Hastings! What are you going to do next?" Toby asks, sports-announcer style, and Spencer chuckles.

"I'm going to go sleep for a thousand years to make up for finals' week," She tells him. "And then I'd like some alcohol and maybe a Netflix marathon with you on your couch. I'm not moving from it for the entire summer."

"That actually sounds pretty incredible," He says and takes her hand, leading her back to where the rest of her family is waiting. "It's a long drive back and I'm sure your parents and grandparents and all that are ready to shower you praise, so I'm guessing I won't see much of you until tomorrow, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Spencer disagrees. "I don't care _what_ they say. They're not keeping me away from you now, of all times. We have three months until California- which you still haven't decided on yet, by the way- and I'm not wasting them talking to my _parents_."

Toby smirks and says, "They're taking you out to dinner when we get back. They invited me to come with."

"And are you going to?"

"Do you want me to?"

She shoots him a look. " _Obviously_. Besides the fact that I want you there, you think I can survive a whole dinner with my _entire_ family? Please say you'll be there."

He laughs. "Okay, okay. I'll be there!"

And he is- physically-speaking, anyway. Spencer watches him all throughout dinner and knows that his mind is off on another planet, as he barely contributes, nods politely and smiles here and there, but doesn't speak a single word. This cannot be a good thing. As her father pays and they go to leave, Spencer insists that she walk Toby home- despite the fact that his loft is around the corner- and the second they're out of earshot she prods, "What's going on? I know my family sucks but they're not _that_ intimidating."

"I didn't want to tell you tonight," Toby frowns. "I really didn't. This is your graduation day and your celebratory dinner and I didn't want to take anything away from you or ruin your happiness or anything."

Spencer frowns, too. "But?"

Toby hesitates but finally says, "I got a job with an architecture firm in Philly."

Spencer's eyes widen and she pulls him into an elated hug. "Are you serious? Oh my god! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," He smiles a bit, almost mirthlessly, and she doesn't quite understand why. Hadn't he been desperate for a real job just moments ago? "It's just going to be deskwork at first but the man I interviewed with said that if I worked full time and went to school part time to get a degree in architecture, I could work my up to the design team, someday. And that's… Honestly, that would be incredible."

"Yeah, it would! Oh my god, this is so great. I'm so proud of you," Spencer beams with pride and reaches her arms around his neck to kiss him chastely. "Why do you not seem so thrilled about this?"

"Well, I was. I am. It's just…" He trails off. "I've been thinking a lot about California and if I take this job…"

"You definitely can't come with me," Spencer finishes. "I get it."

Toby nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Well you have to take it," Spencer encourages. "Seriously. There is no way you can't take this opportunity. It's going to be incredible and something you will both enjoy and excel at."

Toby agrees, but says, "But long distance."

"Yeah," Spencer heaves a sigh. "Long distance."

"We'll make it work," Toby vows, taking her hand in his. "Somehow."

"We'll talk everyday," Spencer nods. "Visit on weekends and holidays."

"Yeah," Toby repeats as if he's trying to convince himself, too, and not just her that this _won't_ totally suck. "We'll make it work."

"Promise?" Spencer asks hopefully and his nod is genuine and confident.

"I promise."

* * *

She moves to California in August, starts school in September and gets the internship the second week of October.

"I'm moving to London," She tells him over FaceTime one night and it still sounds weird rolling off her tongue and she feels a rush of adrenaline flood her veins the moment it leaves her mouth. "And it doesn't feel right because you're not coming with me."

"I'm supposed to," He replies. "And we're not supposed to come back, remember?"

"We'll do that," Spencer says and when he laughs, she insists. "No, seriously! We really will do that, someday. You, me and London and no one will ever be able to bring us back."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget us little people when you're over there excelling at foreign public policy, okay?" Toby jokes and Spencer shoots him a look.

"I would _never_ ," She says overdramatically. "I still can't believe I even got into this program. I mean, pinch me, because I have to be dreaming."

"It's certainly the chance of a lifetime."

"Juggling my classes and schoolwork on top of the _actual_ work for this internship will be hard," Spencer considers and then frowns, watching him yawn. It's three a.m. in Philly and she has no idea how or why they're both still awake. "Not seeing you will be even harder."

"You don't see me now."

She purses her lips. "You know what I mean!"

"Hey, you'll be six hours ahead of me instead of three hours behind," Toby shrugs. "You can tell me my future."

She laughs. "Will you come visit? I'm going to be all alone in a foreign country."

"It's England, Spencer, not Somalia," Toby jokes. "But yeah, I'd love to visit. I'll have to figure that out. Maybe Thanksgiving? They're not so fond of that over there, are they?"

"Yeah, that's not a thing," Spencer says. "That would be awesome, though, if you could. And I'm still going to be coming home for a week before I head over there, so we'll get plenty of quality time, then."

"Good. I can't believe it's been a month and a half since I've seen you."

"It's ridiculous," She whines. "I don't remember the last time I hugged you or kissed you or just held your fucking hand. Why does this suck so much?"

"Because we both have two lives that refuse to meld together," Toby says and yawns again.

"You need to sleep," She tells him. "We've been talking for almost three hours."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Wow, you sound like me," Spencer shakes her head. "How are classes going? And your job?"

"Great. I'm learning a lot," Toby replies. "Everyone's really nice and really helpful. I can't wait until I'm part of the team."

"I'll bet. Neither can I."

"I had lunch with Hanna, Caleb and Emily the other day," Toby says. "They all told me to congratulate you for them and to tell you that they miss you like crazy."

Spencer frowns. "Ugh, I miss them too. I bet that was nice. Where did you go?"

"This café in Philly. Caleb's recommendation," Toby replies. "The waitress thought Emily and I were a couple and that the four of us were on a double date."

Spencer smirks. "Did you correct her?"

"Nah, we just went with it."

He chuckles and she smiles a bit sadly, suddenly aching with longing for her best friends, her boyfriend and, strangely, her hometown. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, babe," He responds tiredly. "Not much longer, now, until fall break and then you'll be back here. Just hang on. I'll try to get out there, too, if I can."

"Don't worry about it if you can't," Spencer insists. "I know you're busy as hell."

"Aren't we both?"

"That's the only good part about this," She says. "The busier I am, the less time I have to focus on how much I miss you."

"Spencer Hastings," He remarks, impeccably impressed. "After all these years, you finally learned to focus on the positives."

* * *

They celebrate Thanksgiving together in London and when he returns to Pennsylvania, Spencer gets her new schedule for the month of December.

She's working twelve-hour days until the 31st- even on Christmas.

"This can't be right," Spencer shakes her head, eyeing her boss as if he's made some kind of mistake. "The only days off I have are the weekends."

"We're not open on weekends," He nods and she shakes her head even more rapidly.

"No, no, I… What about Christmas Eve? And Christmas? You can't…" She trails off. "You can't be open then."

"No, but the offices are," Her boss explains impatiently. "And I'm going to need someone to man the phones, won't I? You and Taylor have proven yourselves perfect for the job."

"But…" Spencer frowns, glancing over at her fellow intern who looks just as miserable as she is. "I'm going home for Christmas."

Her boss smirks. "I'd cancel that flight."

She's dialing Toby's number the second she leaves the office and doesn't even consider the time difference. It's eleven a.m. over there; likely he's in class and won't be able to answer, but she leaves a perfectly calm and almost expertly poised message- almost. Her voice cracks at the end and she curses her emotions. He calls her back the second his class ends, immediately frantic. "What's going on? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm sorry." She instantly regrets her call, her voicemail, her internship decision and this whole thing. "I didn't mean to sound like that. I just… Oh god, Toby, this is… Jesus, I can't even…"

"Finish a sentence?" He teases. "Come on, out with it. When have you ever _not_ been able to tell me something?"

"I got my schedule for December," She exhales heavily. "I'm working _everyday_ ; twelve hour shifts! And… Even on Christmas."

There's silence on the other end and it lasts for so long, Spencer wonders if they've been disconnected. "Toby? Are you still there?"

"I'm here. I just can't…" It's his turn to trail off, leaving her hanging and desperate for the end. "You're not going to be home for Christmas?"

Hearing this from him does nothing but instigate a fresh batch of tears. They swim above her eyelids, sea salt mixing with chocolate brown, and she blinks rapidly, forcing them back. "I don't think so."

"But… You were going to be home for two weeks."

"I know."

"We were going to spend the whole time in bed."

"I know."

"I bought cocoa and dug out that quilt of mine you loved so much and renewed the Netflix subscription I forgot I had."

Spencer laughs despite those salty tears sliding down her face. "We always used to use mine."

"We did," He sighs. "I have your present all ready. I was going to get a tree this weekend."

She sniffles, sinking into her desk chair. "I've got yours, too. It's wrapped already and everything."

"I was so looking forward to this."

"Me too," Spencer sighs. "I just want… I just want to be there with you."

"I want you to be here, too." Toby agrees. "It's funny because we're supposed to attend this architects seminar in Boston that week; it's the twenty-third, twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh, so it would be over Christmas. I turned it down; it was highly encouraged but still technically optional. My boss seemed kind of disappointed but I told him, 'My girlfriend's coming home from London for Christmas and I don't want to miss out on a second with her'. I think he understood, but still. The irony, right?"

"You should go," Spencer says ruefully. "I mean, unless you want to spend Christmas with your family?"

"I would rather hack off my own arm with an axe," Toby disagrees. "I guess I'm going to Boston."

She frowns. "I ruin _everything_ , don't I?"

"You don't ruin anything. This isn't your fault," Toby insists. "It's just… Once again, the world refuses to cut us some slack."

Spencer groans. "This is not our year."

"No. It really isn't."

* * *

It's December 19th when the Christmas miracle happens.

Spencer trudges into work exhausted and disoriented to find that they had finally made a monumental decision on the latest case of foreign policy they'd been debating over for weeks. She's pretty sure she's fallen asleep in the final meeting they have before they settle, but _her_ boss's boss wishes everyone a happy holiday and tells them she'll see them in the New Year. She throws a party for the interns in the break room because their hard work should be commended and then asks them what their Christmas plans are. Both Spencer and Taylor answer her with dreary dispositions, telling her they'll be here, answering the phones. And that's when it happens; she stomps away, has a heated discussion with the man in charge of her interns and then comes back and bids them farewell. They are no longer needed.

Spencer's eyes are wide as her boss sheepishly says, "I suppose we won't be needing you to answer phones after all."

She cannot believe it; she _will_ be home for Christmas after all. Hastily, Spencer races home and packs a bag and realizes it's late and she won't be going anywhere at this time of night. She uses the leftover miles from the trip she's just canceled to purchase a new flight home- or, at least, she tries. Turns out, last minute holiday flights are _expensive as fuck_ and the flight credit she has will barely cover a third of the price to fly home now. Blearily, Spencer sits on her laptop until well after sunrise, hitting refresh and clearing her cookies every now and then, but flights do not get any cheaper; they only disappear. And so, she pays an arm and a leg for a ticket to Philadelphia- she'll figure out a return flight at a later date- and catches a red-eye that will get her home on Christmas Eve.

She wants to surprise Toby- _look who came home for Christmas, after all!_ \- but she's just too excited to wait. She's waiting at the terminal and it's almost ten a.m.; her flight boards in a half hour. It's barely four a.m. in Philadelphia, and she knows she shouldn't, but she finds herself dialing his number anyway, giddy beyond belief. He answers because he always answers, no matter when she calls, but his voice is groggy and gravelly and she can tell she's woken him up. "Spencer. Time difference. For fuck's sake."

She chuckles and is immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think. I'm sure you're exhausted so I'll make it quick so you can go back to bed."

"Yeah, we were out pretty late last night, but we don't have anything again until Wednesday," He yawns. "So what's up?"

"We? Who's we?" Spencer wonders and Toby's voice is low and hushed.

"Couple of guys I work with," He answers simply. "If you ever come home again, maybe you'll get to meet them. They're great. They've got more than half the firm at this conference, so it's just like a reunion, of sorts."

Her face falls. The architect seminar. Boston. She's finally going home to surprise him for Christmas and he isn't home to surprise. "Oh my god. I can't believe I forgot."

"Forgot what? The seminar?" He yawns. "I forgot too, honestly, until Mike called me about it yesterday morning. But it's fine, Spence, really. I don't know every single detail of your schedule and I'm not sure I could keep up with it if I did. I'll tell you, it's cold as _hell_ in Boston and snowy, too. We're getting a crazy storm right now. The roads are hell."

With every word he speaks, Spencer's heart sinks lower and lower. She must remain silent for a while, for Toby asks, "You still there?"

"I'm here."

"You okay?"

Her flight is called and boarding begins and, confused, Toby asks, "Where are you?"

"Heathrow," Spencer says, her voice small as she stands and gathers her things. "Surprise. I'm coming home for Christmas."

"You're kidding."

"I swear to you, I'm not."

"Please- _please_ \- tell me you're joking!"

"I'm not," Spencer groans and hands her ticket in, boarding the plane and choosing her seat. "I'm literally getting on the plane right now."

"When does your flight get in?"

"Noon, I think?"

"Spencer," Toby sighs. "When did you figure this out?"

"A few days ago," She replies miserably. "But I forgot about your seminar and I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well," He chuckles. "It's _definitely_ a surprise."

"God, this is _not_ our year," She says. "I ruin literally everything."

"You don't. You really don't," Toby disagrees. "Once again, timing is not our strong suit."

"We're horrible at it."

"I'm pulling up flights right now," He tells her. "There's no _way_ I can drive back in this, but I didn't drive down here to begin with; company carpool. I'll get a flight and I'll meet you at the airport."

Her heart lifts. "Really?"

"Are you kidding? Of course," He says. "I'm not staying here if you're coming home."

"Okay," Spencer smiles and the flight attendant eyes her phone with disdain. "I've got to go."

"Okay. I'll see you soon." Toby promises. "Have a safe flight. I love you."

"I love you, too," She says and slips her phone into her pocket, suddenly warm.

It's a smooth flight regardless of the length and it feels much longer than it might have if she wasn't waiting with anxious anticipation to see her boyfriend. She finds herself almost pining over some of the things she normally wouldn't, especially when it comes to Rosewood. She misses their spot at Lookout Point, she misses The Brew and the loft, she misses the girls. She misses lazy Sunday mornings snuggling with him in bed and afternoon runs through town and late nights laughing until the sunrise. And just when she thinks she'll burst from too much longing, they land safely in Pennsylvania and Spencer's internal clock is all out of sorts; she'll have jetlag for days. She scoops her carry on into her arms and deplanes as fast as she can, her eyes searching for his in the crowd the moment she rounds the corner.

She finds Emily instead.

"Hey," Emily greets her with a bear hug and Spencer's missed her best friend just as dearly, no doubt. "I'm so glad you're home!"

"Me too," Spencer agrees, trying to hide her disappointment. "It's been too long."

"It really has," Emily agrees as they make their way to baggage claim. "And I'm sorry. I know I'm not the face you wanted to see."

"What?" Spencer exclaims. "That's ridiculous. I always want to see you."

"Okay, not the one you expected to see, then?"

"Well, no, okay, not really."

"He got a flight, but because of the storm, it was delayed," Emily explains. "He's coming in at four, now, instead of eleven-fifteen. But he said to head home and not wait around for him."

She jingles the spare keys to Toby's loft in front of Spencer's face and says, "I suspect you know what to do with these?"

Spencer laughs and together, they make their way out of the airport. It feels strange to be home, that's for sure. She glances around at all the familiar places as they make their way back to Rosewood on the interstate. It's a short drive, merely a half hour or so, and soon, they pass the welcome sign and the school and city hall and all the sights she's grown used to over her childhood. She thanks Emily for picking her up, treats her to a coffee at The Brew and then heads up the stairs, exhausted and ready for a long nap on Toby's couch as she waits for him to come home to her. Keys in the door, she feels like she really is home, now, and he's decorated so nicely with a tree by the window, presents beneath and even a sprig of mistletoe above the doorway to his bedroom, something he's put out every year.

She has every intention of waiting vigilantly by the phone for his call saying he's landed, but she falls asleep instead, the time difference and physical exhaustion finally catching up to her. It's hours later when her phone finally rings and snow has begun to fall outside. "Hello? Toby?"

"Hey, Spence."

Something's wrong. She can sense that and yet she still has to ask, "Are you here? Please tell me you're here. I'll come get you; I just have to find keys for the-"

"Spencer," Toby sighs. "My flight was canceled."

"No," Spencer shakes her head, refusing to believe the truth. "No, Emily just said it was delayed."

"Yeah, a few hours ago it was," He replies. "But the snow picked up and they can't get any incoming flights and all the outgoing planes have been grounded. What's worse is the roads are shitty and Mike can't get back here to pick me up until they clear them, so I'm going to be spending Christmas in the airport. Alone."

"No!" Spencer wails and flops backwards against the couch. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

He exhales heavily. "Yeah, I know."

"Logan Airport, right?" She then says, calculating. "If I leave now, I can probably be there in-"

"Spencer, don't even think about getting on the road right now," He warns her. "I'm serious. It's so dangerous. I'm not risking your life so we can spend Christmas together. We'll have other Christmases."

Miserably, she asks, "But what about this one?"

"Well," Toby hesitates. "The universe was not on our side, this time."

Spencer frowns. "I'm beginning to think the universe has it out for us."

Despite everything, he chuckles. "Yeah, me too."

After a beat, he asks, "How long are you home for?"

"I haven't booked a return flight yet," She says sheepishly. "So, for right now? Kind of indefinitely."

"Okay. I'll be home as soon as I can," Toby promises and his voice echoes in the shell of her ear, tinny and far away. "You can open your present, if you want. It's under the tree."

"No," She insists, shaking her head. "I'll wait until you're here for that. I have yours, too."

Over the sorrow and the melancholy, Toby professes softly, "I love you."

She feels like crying. Sinking lower into the couch, Spencer replies, "I love you, too."

"Merry Christmas, Spencer."

The lights on the tree twinkle in the waning afternoon sunlight, the snow swirls in the gusts of wind outside his window, and all around her, there is silence. Spencer smiles despite the loneliness and wishes, "Merry Christmas, Toby."

 _I'll be home for Christmas… If only in my dreams…_


	8. a song of a wintry fairy land

**Good morning friends! There are only five days left until Christmas and five chapters left and I've managed to stick to a writing/updating schedule! I didn't think I'd be able to, to be honest. Between work and the holiday craziness, I was like damn why did I agree to do this? LOL. But it's cool! We're almost done, actually. It's fabulous. And I hope you continue to enjoy! :D  
**

 **Today's chapter is themed off of "Sleigh Ride." Thank you for your feedback and for reading and I'll see you tomorrow!**

* * *

we're gliding along with a song of a wintry fairy land

This is about to be the most uncomfortable week of his life.

"It's not going to be that bad," Spencer says from the passenger seat, as if she's read his mind. "It beats Christmas with your feuding parents, doesn't it?"

He's not entirely sure. He'd recently gathered the courage and told his father everything concerning Jenna and to everyone's surprise, Daniel had all but banned her from returning to his home. This, of course, had caused a rift between Daniel and Toby's stepmother and they two had been arguing in all-out brawls ever since. "I don't know…"

"You don't? You'd rather have Christmas set in World War Three?" Spencer wonders. "Come on, it's okay. My parents are not that bad. And it's not like we're going to spend every waking second with them. We'll have plenty of alone time."

"No… No, you're right, they're not that bad," Toby agrees. "They've been really welcoming towards me and I certainly can't complain about that."

"They love you," Spencer says. "Really, they do. You were the first one my mom thought of when she invited us to come along with them. 'Is Toby coming? Please make sure you extend an invitation so he isn't feeling left out. I want everyone to be included'. It's like light years better than they used to be."

"That was really nice of her," Toby says. "They really have come a long way."

"And my dad has like a thousand questions for you, as he always does," Spencer smirks. "Nothing serious, don't worry. It's all business. I guess he just finally realized that, hey, you're a real person with life experience he hasn't had."

He laughs. "It's okay, you've sold me. I'm in."

"You're already in," Spencer says. "We're halfway there."

Toby nods and then pauses, asking, "Your sister's coming, right?"

"According to my mother, she 'wouldn't miss it for the world'," Spencer rolls her eyes. "I don't know when she started talking like some housewife from the 1900s, but she's not fooling anyone."

He remains quiet and the realization must dawn on her. "Oh. _Oh_. This isn't about my parents. It's about Melissa and Wren."

"I didn't say that," Toby shakes his head and she frowns.

"Come on, Toby, you're as transparent as they come," She replies. "I should've known it was about them all along."

"I never said that," Toby repeats. "You may have heard it, I may have thought it and it might be true. But I never said it."

Rolling her eyes, Spencer says, "Don't Jeff-Winger-speech me, right now."

Toby sighs. "I hate that guy."

"He hates you, too," She chuckles and Toby frowns. "If it's any consolation, my parents are on your side. My mother cannot express her disdain enough for the man and my father? Forget about it. No one's ever been good enough for his precious Melissa and _least_ of all Wren, considering what he's done."

"Well good," Toby says. "I'll talk to them when we get there about starting an Anti-Wren Brigade."

"You're all ridiculous," Spencer replies. "Look, I'm not his biggest fan either but the past is in the past and for some reason, Melissa's decided to forgive him enough to jump back into bed with him. And since we're kind of, sort of back on solid ground with one another, I just want to show her some support."

"That makes sense," Toby shrugs. "But I still like my plan better."

They drive on and soon they arrive at a beautiful ski resort in the Poconos, the very same one that her parents had chosen for their honeymoon all those years ago. Honestly, Toby's fairly surprised that Peter and Veronica are still together; all throughout Spencer's adolescence- or, at least the time he spent dating her- they'd seemed as if they were going to fall apart at the slightest disturbance. They'd separated innumerous times, fought to the brink of death and had had more bad things to say than good and yet… There they are, in the lobby of the resort, together and awaiting the rest of their family members with near elated grins on both of their faces. Toby's not sure how they've done it, but perhaps they've decided to set aside their differences in the spirit of the season.

"I'm so glad you two could come," Veronica exclaims, pulling her daughter in for a hug, first, and then Toby. "Christmas would've been the same without you."

"Yes and now you can see how beautiful the lodge is, especially when it's decorated for Christmas," Peter adds in. "Although, it's a lot busier than I remember it being when we'd last visited."

"It's the twentieth, Dad," Spencer says. "I'm sure all the people who are staying through Christmas are checking in today."

"Well come on! Let's get you checked in and then you can see this spectacular view," Veronica insists as she ushers them towards the front desk and they get their reservations in order.

When their room assignment is doled out, they walk towards the great glass window at the back of the lobby, overlooking the slopes, and Peter springs the surprise on them. "Just _wait_ until you see your room. Just wait. Have you ever slept in a California king bed, Toby?"

"Uh, can't say that I have," He chuckles. "Sounds nice, though."

"Oh, it's like sleeping on a cloud," Peter says. "What about a fireplace and a hot tub in your room? Heated floors in the bathroom? Rain shower?"

"Dad," Spencer cuts in. "How much does that _cost?_ "

He waves this off, unimportant. "It's Christmas."

"We don't need all of that," Toby insists. "Really. A regular room is fine."

"Nonsense! It's Christmas!" Peter says. "Go big or go home, right?"

"But Dad, at least let us contribute _something_ -"

"My trip, my idea, my treat," Peter shakes his head. "Don't you dare try to insult me by slipping money into my pocket. I'm hip to your games, Spence."

Toby smiles. "How do we repay you for this, then?"

Peter grins, clapping him on the shoulder. "You have a great time. That's all I ask."

Spencer glances from her father to her mother, bewildered, and Veronica holds up her hands in defense. "Don't look at me, this was all his idea. Once in a blue moon, your father gets those, too."

"Hey," Peter remarks. "What do I make all this money for if I can't be generous with it?"

Toby smirks and, egged on, Peter asks, "Right? Aren't I right, Toby?"

"You're right," He chuckles. "And we appreciate it. Really. Thank you."

Spencer shakes her head. "Mom, is Melissa here yet?"

"They got a late start, she said, this morning, but they should be here soon," Veronica replies. "And, unfortunately, she's still bringing _him_."

"Come on, it's almost Christmas," Spencer reasons. "Peace on Earth and goodwill toward men? Does none of that mean anything to you?"

Veronica shrugs and Peter grumbles, "After everything he did to her. To you, Spencer! To _us!_ He lived under our roof-"

"The barn?" Spencer interjects. "The barn _I_ designed?"

"And I'm still paying off that dress, you know," He shakes his head. "Melissa couldn't just save it for whenever she _does_ get married…"

"Mrs. Ramsey- you remember her, right? From the club?" Veronica asks and Spencer nods. "She _still_ asks, to this day, for the whole story. As if she doesn't thrive on everyone else's gossip, now she needs to get in with ours!"

"Not to mention all the time he's spent staring at you," Peter nods towards his youngest daughter. "Yeah, he thinks I haven't noticed, but I know what he's thinking and what is he expecting is going to happen?"

"See, I'm _not_ the only one who's noticed," Toby tells Spencer, who rolls her eyes.

"I never said you were making it up. Just exaggerating a little."

"Like hell he is!" Peter disagrees. "That man is a disgrace. How am I supposed to enjoy my Christmas holidays with him hanging around?"

"I suggested we start an Anti-Wren Brigade," Toby says and both Peter and Veronica erupt into laughter.

"Anti-Wren!" Peter laughs loudly, ignoring his daughter's eye roll. "That's good. That's a good one."

Toby glances at Spencer, who looks sincerely irritated with each of them, and apologizes. "I'm sorry. Look, you made a good point, too. It's Christmas; we should let bygones be bygones."

"I don't like him, either. _Obviously_ ," Spencer says. "But Melissa's the most dramatic person I know and if we make a big deal out of this, she's going to turn it around and make it about her, like she does with _everything_. You all know I'm right."

"Alright, alright," Veronica agrees and then something catches her eye towards the door. "Actually, I think that's them. Everyone on their best behavior."

Spencer throws a cautionary glance at her father. "She means you."

Peter holds up his hands in mock defense and then shoots a grin at Toby and it's already been a very weird afternoon. Melissa comes over and airily greets and hugs each one of them, squeezing her mother and sister close. Wren offers handshakes to each of the men, a polite hug to Veronica and then gazes upon Spencer as he always does; in the way that makes Toby's skin crawl. She purses her lips and gives him merely a hello. Toby's already had enough. It's only December 20th; how is he going to do this for five more days?

They decide to have lunch at the café upstairs and their table overlooks the chairlift, skiers heading up the mountain and empty compartments returning to the bottom. Once they've been seated and have ordered, Wren launches into his latest heroic tale of how he'd saved a woman's life just yesterday while Melissa looks on fondly and proudly, as if she just can't seem to grasp how she'd gotten so lucky. Veronica is smiling tightly and nodding in all the right places and the story is at least holding Peter's attention, but Toby grips his fork in his clenched fist and contemplates jamming it into his eye. Gently, Spencer closes her hand over his and he releases the utensil, locking eyes with her as she seems to convey, _Don't you dare. You're not leaving me alone with them_.

And honestly, he wouldn't dream of it. He'll have to think of a way to get them _both_ out.

"… and it wasn't the first time, truly, that a patient has gotten flirty with me," Wren continues, beaming. "We had a good laugh about it when she came to and couldn't remember a thing!"

"I wouldn't want to remember it either," Spencer murmurs and Toby laughs, attempting to suppress it but ultimately failing.

"And actually," Wren goes on. "I had a hand in a marriage proposal just last week. You see, I was her favorite doctor and her boyfriend-now-fiancé wanted my advice in just the way to do it."

"Yeah, I'm sure he couldn't figure it out for himself," Toby says under his breath and Spencer bites her lip, giggling the tiniest bit.

"Hold on, darling," Melissa cuts him off, glaring at the end of the table, where Spencer and Toby are barely keeping themselves together. "Is there something going on that you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

"No," Toby replies innocently. "I'm sorry, did we disrupt the story?"

Melissa's eyes narrow. "Toby, I've always liked you. You're sweet, likeable and have always been the calm to my sister's crazy. But when the two of you are together, it's like you're both in your own little world that the rest of us can never hope to enter and we basically get ignored like we don't exist."

"That's not true," Spencer shakes her head, but Wren nods his agreement.

"It is, love," Wren says. "I don't think you mean to do it, but you do."

"Alright, alright," Peter interjects. "Leave them alone, Melissa."

"Why? So they can get away with making fun of us like they always do?" She crosses her arms over her chest. "It's gone on long enough. We're adults. Let's act like it."

"Says the woman who's basically tattling to Mom and Dad?" Spencer remarks. "Seriously, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face. I can take it. I've been dealing with your shit for years."

"Alright, that's enough. Come on, it's Christmas," Peter says sternly. "Knock it off."

"It's December twentieth."

"Well it's damn near close enough!"

"Ah," Wren grins over at Toby, who looks back, puzzled. "It wouldn't be Christmas without some good old fashioned Hastings drama, would it?"

Toby eyes him, asking, "Why do I get the sense you're enjoying this?"

He shrugs and beams at the two sisters and what boils Toby's blood is that look in his eyes and even worse, he can't tell which sister Wren is ogling at. Veronica ends the argument by saying, "Spencer, everything doesn't have to be a fight so will you _please_ stop picking one?"

"Me? But she _literally_ just said-"

"And Melissa, I swear to god," Veronica exhales heavily. "Stop taking potshots at your sister and her boyfriend just because you're overeager and nitpicky. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, honey."

"What are you _talking_ about? She's the one who-"

"Just _cool it_ ," Veronica seethes, her nostrils flaring. "We haven't even gotten to the main course yet and I'm already sick of both of you."

Toby winces at this; he never likes when he witnesses Veronica's slipshod parenting and he knows it hurts Spencer more than she'll let on. He reaches over, slips a hand in hers beneath the table, and she squeezes _hard_. Peter says nothing; he sips his cocktail and slips an olive off of the toothpick, chewing silently. And Wren, of course, is eating this up and can't seem to decide if he should egg the sisters on further or let it go. He chooses the latter, thankfully, and asks, "So are we hitting the slopes right after lunch or did we have other plans?"

"Well _I_ planned on getting right out there," Melissa replies pointedly. "Spencer? What about you?"

"Sure," Spencer nods curtly. "I think that would be nice."

Toby hesitates and says, "I've never skied a day in my life."

Wren smirks and his sly grin takes up his whole face. Surely, he is _loving_ this. Spencer grins sympathetically at him and places a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll teach you. We'll start you off easy on the bunny slope."

"And I'm not going to kill myself trying?" Toby asks and Spencer laughs.

"No!"

"It's easy, honey," Veronica tells him. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Yeah, you seem like a fast learner," Peter adds. "You'll be skiing circles around all of us in no time, just watch."

The smile slips off of Wren's face and, ironically, finds its way onto Toby's. Likely, his immediate acceptance and appreciation by the Hastings' is something Wren can't quite understand- and doesn't have, himself. Toby will take this as a bit of a win. When their meal concludes and Peter has it charged to the room despite everyone's offer to chip in, they head their separate ways and plan to meet at the chairlift in an hour. Toby's dreading every second of this until Spencer walks right past the elevator leading up to their floor and begins to put her coat and scarf on, preparing for the outdoors. Hopeful, Toby asks, "We're not going skiing with them?"

" _Hell_ no," She bundling up and gesturing for him to do the same. "We've filled our quota for mandatory Hastings time today. Let's get out there and have a little fun."

He grins, grateful, and says, "God bless you, Spencer Hastings."

A blast of cold air greets them the moment they step outside. Shrieks of laughter and glee emanate from the ice skating rink across the field and the chairlift continues to ascend into the great blue sky. Spencer nods towards the barn in the distance and asks, "How about a romantic sleigh ride through the snow?"

"You're on," Toby agrees and together they set off towards the jingling horses.

He helps her climb into the sleigh before hopping over the side and joining her, draping the oversized blanket over their laps. The driver tilts his cap at each of them before settling onto his perch and pulling at the reigns. The snow is heavy and deep, but soon, they're gliding through and passing the beautiful wintry sights all around them. He's content with the comfortable silence that follows, but Spencer breaks this to apologize almost instantly. "Lunch was a disaster and I'm _so_ sorry."

"No, Spence, _I'm_ sorry," Toby tells her. "I was just as bad as you were and your mom only blamed you. And I'm sorry, by the way, for getting you in trouble and for the way she spoke to you and… It just wasn't good for anyone."

"Except Wren, who looked like he was having the time of his life," She rolls her eyes. "You know, that is _so_ Melissa. She would choose a loser like him. God forbid she actually choose someone decent and who treats her well."

"You know what? I don't see what you girls see in him," Toby says and Spencer rolls her eyes. "Seriously! I don't! He's a smarmy know-it-all who is much too obsessed with himself."

"He's the male version of my sister, so she's basically dating herself. It all makes sense, now."

"Is it the accent? It's because he's British, isn't it?" Toby wonders, trying desperately to understand. "Yeah, girls _always_ have a thing for the British accent."

"Yeah, well that 'thing' went away the second I found out how sleazy he was," Spencer says. "The second he kissed me. And… when I let it happen a second time."

"Alright," He shakes his head. "We don't need to talk about this."

"You brought it up!"

"Really wish I hadn't."

She shakes her head, smiling, and says, "You don't need to be threatened by him."

"Me? Threatened by _him?_ Are you kidding? Seriously, have you confused me with someone else or something?" Toby wonders. "I hate the guy, yes, but I have not once been threatened by him. He is a spineless little twerp who doesn't have a shot in hell with you and that's just hilarious to me, honestly. It's sad and pathetic to watch him try."

"He hasn't tried in years."

"Not actively, no. But it's all about the subtext."

She shrugs. "Well, you're not wrong there."

Toby nods, satisfied, and watches as children race down the hills on snow tubes, laugh and call to one another and catch falling snowflakes on their tongues. The resounding _clip-clop_ of the horses' hooves on the pavement in front of them acts as a perfect soundtrack to the romantic ride and he reaches over, takes Spencer's gloved hand in his, and they both smile. "This is really nice."

"It is," She agrees but shivers the tiniest bit. "It's cold and the horses smell- like, really, _really_ badly- but it's nice. Scenic. Romantic."

"It's beautiful out here," Toby remarks, watching the pine trees accumulate the falling snow and catching a glimpse of the mountains in the distance. "I've never been this far north. Rosewood's all I know and there isn't a mountain sight for miles."

"It is. It's gorgeous," Spencer agrees, teeth chattering. "But _freezing_."

"Here," Toby suggests, peeling the blanket off of their laps and draping it around her shoulders despite her protests. "I'm fine. Don't argue. Your lips are blue and your eyelashes are freezing together."

He wraps an arm around her for good measure and she settles against him, eyes closing in pleasure. "There. Better?"

"Much."

"Comfy and cozy?"

"Always."

The road before them grows snowy and harder to navigate, so the driver clicks his tongue and pulls at the reigns and they turn back towards the lodge. Toby presses a frozen kiss to the top of Spencer's head, the only part of her his lips can reach, and asks, "Have I thanked you yet? I'm not sure I have."

"Thanked me for what?"

"For including me on this Hastings family Christmas," Toby says. "None of you had to do that and it was really generous of you. I'm really grateful."

"Toby, I love you," Spencer says as if, somehow, he's missed this memo. "Christmas is about spending time with those you love- your friends and family. And I can't imagine, even though they drive me up a wall, spending Christmas without any of them."

"I know," Toby agrees. "I love you, too. I just, sometimes, feel like I'm intruding on the family time now and again, so I wanted to be sure you knew that I'm grateful to be here and I'm thankful for all of you."

"Intruding? What are you talking about?" Spencer wonders, shaking her head. "You're family. You're one of us, now. And you'll _always_ belong."

This sentiment means more to him than any gift ever could.

Later, when there's a fire roaring in the corner of the hotel room and they're relaxing with identical cups of cocoa in the hot tub, Toby says, "This is better than skiing could ever hope to be."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "I'm pretty sure I know where we'll be spending all our time."

He raises his mug and she clinks hers against it. "To Christmas!"

"To Christmas!" She echoes, beaming."

"To sleigh rides!"

"To sleigh rides!"

"And to family," Toby concludes. "May the doses in which we are able to take them only continue to grow larger as time goes on."

Spencer laughs and nods her agreement. "I'll drink to that."

 _Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you…_


	9. happy golden days of yore

**Good morning, good morning! Thank you for your fabulous feedback on the past few chapters. It's good to know I'm not just spieling out here to no one haha. I always contemplate writing something and wondering if someone will be out there, reading, if I do. It's good to know that my efforts are not unfounded haha. Thank you for your continued support. Together, we will make it through the rest of this terrible show (I'll just be cheering you on from the sidelines because I am certainly not watching lol).**

 **Today's chapter is themed after "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Thank you for reading and enjoy!**

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here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore

Her parents are going on a cruise for Christmas, leaving them high and dry.

"I guess," Toby suggests hesitantly and Spencer begs him not to say it. "We could go to my parents'?"

"We could," Spencer agrees just as hesitantly. "Or we could do literally anything else and not hate ourselves."

He smirks. "See, if this were your parents, you'd be saying, 'Come on, Toby, they're not _that_ bad.' But I can't say that. My parents _are_ that bad."

"We can't just show up," Spencer points out. "We can't just appear out of thin air. We have to give them fair warning that we're coming."

"Maybe they'll invite us." Toby shrugs. "They probably won't, but maybe they will."

"I mean… How much could it cost to make Christmas dinner for ourselves?" Spencer contemplates. "There are only two of us. We could just… We could get something small, like a chicken, and then a few potatoes and some crescent rolls…"

"We can't have Christmas dinner alone," He reasons. "How pathetic does that sound?"

"Pathetic, yes," Spencer agrees. "But your family hates me and isn't too fond of you, either. I want to enjoy Christmas, you know? I can't say that I will if we're in Rosewood with your entire family."

"I wish you were wrong about this. I really do," Toby sighs. "Maybe we can talk to Emily or Hanna or someone and crash their dinner."

"Oh trust me, you do not want to have Christmas with the Fields'. They are _way_ too intense about it. I'm talking formal dinner, place cards, china, everything." Spencer shakes her head. "And Hanna's going with Caleb to California to celebrate Christmas with his mom. We're shit out of luck."

"When are we not?" Toby asks and she chuckles.

"If you don't want to go to your parents', we shouldn't go," Spencer then says, sobering a bit. "Believe me, if we can avoid Rosewood, I think that option is always best."

"He invites me every year and I always turn him down because we go to your parents'," Toby says. "Me? Us? I don't know."

"You. Definitely just you," Spencer purses her lips. "Every year, he thinks you're going to wake up and realize you've made a mistake. He's just _waiting_ for you to break up with me."

"Well, he's going to be waiting a long-ass time," Toby says and she smirks. "He doesn't hate you. Just last week he asked all about you; how you were doing, if your job was still working you to the bone, what you wanted for Christmas… He was genuinely interested."

"Wait, you never told me that," Spencer replies, eyes wide. "Are we friends now? Should we exchange numbers and go to lunch?"

Toby chuckles. "If you want."

"I didn't know he was getting me a gift," Spencer remarks. "That's so nice of him and so unnecessary. Now I need to get _him_ one. But where to find the Tin Man a heart? I hear Oz is closed over the holidays."

"Ha, ha, ha," He rolls his eyes. "You know, you don't get nearly enough credit for your wit."

She grins cheekily. "Did he ask you to come to Christmas when you spoke last week?"

"Yeah."

"And you said no?"

"I said maybe," Toby sighs. "I knew your parents weren't going to be here but I wanted to keep our options open."

"We have no options," Spencer smiles. "Just tell him we'll be there. I'll prepare myself for the Cavanaugh extravaganza and we'll have a good time."

"We'll have a time," Toby says. "Can't say it'll be a good one."

Spencer laughs the tiniest bit, rubbing his shoulders before standing and heading for the kitchen. "What does your father like?"

"That'll be easy. It's a short list," Toby says, thumbing through his list of contacts. "Crunching numbers, Sudoku puzzles, college football and single malt scotch."

"That's the most random list I've ever heard," Spencer chuckles. "I guess I'm buying him a football team because it's cheaper than the scotch."

"Tell me about it," He agrees. "I bought him a bottle once that I think I'm _still_ paying off. It's the one thing he indulges in."

"I was going to say," She nods. "For someone who loves to make fun of my family and their expenses…"

"Yep. He's a hypocrite," Toby tells her and dials his father's number, pressing the phone to his ear. "You'll find many of the Cavanaughs are."

"Your grandparents were awesome," Spencer points out. "They were so sweet and so nice and so, so welcoming."

"They're my mom's parents, that's why," He says and she bites her lip. "My dad's dad died before I was born and his mom is a mean old bitch."

She snorts. "A lovely thing to say about your grandmother."

"She literally called me Bean Pole from the moment I could walk," Toby explains and Spencer bursts into laughter, her head thrown back. "I'm serious! It's because I was so tall and skinny. My mom would correct her constantly and she'd go, _I know his goddamned name, Marion! Would you feed the kid? For Christ's sake!_ "

"I'm so sorry," Spencer says, attempting and failing to control her laughter. "Bean Pole, oh my god."

"It's not funny!" Toby insists, shooting her look, and his father finally picks up. "Hey, Dad, it's me."

"Toby. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," He nods. "You?"

"Sure. You getting snow up there? It's really coming down, here."

"Nah, it's clear," Toby chances a sidelong glance at the window of their apartment, where the city rushes by, oblivious. "Not going to get a white Christmas at this point."

"Eh, it's only the twenty-first. You've got some time."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Speaking of which, have you made a decision about coming down or are you going to their place again?"

"Actually," Toby starts and braces himself for the reaction. "If it's okay… We'd like to come down for Christmas dinner. It's been a while since we've spent Christmas together, hasn't it? And I thought… Well, if the offer still stands…"

"Toby, of course the offer still stands. You're my son. You're always welcome here."

"And-"

"And Spencer too, yes Toby. Jesus. You don't have to ask every time. She's in your life; she's in my life. Come on."

"That's not what I was going to ask," Toby replies. "Where are we with the whole… Jenna situation?"

There's a long silence on the other end and Spencer, too, pauses her ministrations. "She won't be here. She hasn't been home since last Thanksgiving."

Last Thanksgiving, after _way_ too much alcohol, the truth about his sexual abuse had surfaced, to everyone's horror, and he hasn't seen her since. Daniel clears his throat and says, "Carolyn knows how I feel about the Jenna situation. I'm still furious _she's_ not more furious."

"Well," Toby shrugs. "She's her daughter."

"Yeah, and you're my son."

"Yeah." Toby exhales. "So… What can we bring?"

"Don't feel like you have to."

"No, I want to," Toby insists. "Anything."

"Well, whatever you want. We're not picky."

Toby smirks, shaking his head. "Yeah, okay."

"See you then?"

"See you then," He agrees and hangs up. Spencer's waiting beside him on baited breath.

"So?"

"So we're going there for Christmas and there's no backing out of this," He sighs, standing and encircling his arms around her waist. "Why did we do this?"

"Come on, it'll be fine," She tells him. "We'll go there, exchange gifts, eat and then peace the fuck out. Smile and nod politely at some terrible conversation, I'm sure."

"And get _all_ the questions," Toby groans. "How did you two meet, again? How are you _still_ together? And you're living in New York, you say? That life is enough for you?"

"Why don't you visit more often? Why don't you call?" Spencer continues. "Aren't you sick of each other yet? Don't you want to play the field and see what else is out there before settling down?"

Toby adds, "When are you going to get married?"

"When are you going to have babies?" Spencer mimics. "You're not getting any younger."

"No one's said that!"

"My mother! Last week!" Spencer exclaims. "We've been engaged for, what? Six months? Seven? And she already wants us to pop out twelve kids. Not getting any younger? I'm twenty-five!"

He laughs. "I am _so_ not ready for children."

"Me either, oh my god," She shakes her head. "I'm not ready for little Bean Poles."

Toby frowns, his eyes narrowing. "I regret telling you that story."

She's laughing and he drops his arms from around her. "I'm sorry, it's just _so_ funny."

"Yes, getting bullied by my family is _oh so_ hysterical."

"Come on, babe," Spencer pleads, following him down the hall and catching his hands, turning his body back towards hers. "I'm not making fun of you. But obviously you feel comfortable enough with me to share these horrible things."

"Well of course I do. We've been together for a million years. We're getting married," Toby says. "Isn't it crazy that even after all these years, there are still things you don't know about me?"

"It is," She agrees. "I'm sure there are plenty of humiliating and/or terrible things I haven't told you."

"Yeah, that's true."

"Oh, have I told you about that time my father was supposed to chaperone our field trip to the zoo?" She asks. "I was, like, eight. I was so excited because he never cut work for _anything_. I decided I was too cool to take the school bus to the zoo with the rest of the class so I waited for my father to pick me up and drive me there, like the rest of the chaperones' kids did. And one by one, those kids left with their parents for the zoo and guess who stood there all afternoon?"

Toby's eyes widen. "No."

"Yup," Spencer nods. "He completely forgot me. I stood there, waiting, all day and when I got home, I was so furious I wouldn't even _look_ at him. That's when he thought he could buy me off with a box of buttercreams, which, actually, kind of worked. But, honestly, I wish I could say that was the first time I was forgotten about. And it wasn't the last, either."

"Spence," He frowns. "That wasn't funny. Mine was at least funny."

"Hey, you said it wasn't! You flipped out when I laughed," She points out, teasingly adding, "Wow, the Cavanaughs really _are_ hypocrites."

"Yeah and you'll be one, soon enough," Toby says and she beams at the notion. "So you better learn the family business."

She chuckles and throws her arms around his neck elatedly, pulling his mouth to hers for a loving kiss. She's glad she gets him forever, now, because she's pretty sure she'll never get enough of this.

Four days pass quickly and soon, it's Christmas morning. There still isn't any snow on the ground, but there are carols playing and presents under the tree and love in both of their hearts. They have a quiet morning, opening presents, sipping cocoa and going out of their way to end up _accidentally_ underneath the mistletoe (they end up in bed not twenty minutes later). Despite their every effort to avoid it, the time comes for them leave each other's arms and their very cozy bed and get ready for the day in order to head down to Rosewood. It grows colder the farther north they drive and Toby's father had been right; they'd gotten at least a foot or two of snow, blanketing each roof and lawn beautifully. She tries to be bothered by the familiar sights of Rosewood, but she just can't find it today. It's Christmas, she's with the love of her life and her heart is light.

They approach Toby's childhood home, hand in hand. Toby inhales a deep breath and says, "Well… I guess we're doing this."

"You said that when we were still in bed, when we got dressed, when we got in the car," Spencer lists. "When we got on the interstate, when we got _off_ the interstate, when we pulled into the driveway…"

"You've made your point," Toby nudges her shoulder. "I just still can't believe it."

"There isn't at least the _tiniest_ part of you that's glad to be home?" Spencer asks. "Especially for the holidays?"

"It'll be good to see my dad, I guess," He shrugs. "That's about it. And I can't believe you got him scotch."

"You said that's what he likes!" Spencer defends herself. "I didn't buy the five-thousand-dollar bottle. It's fine."

Toby glances at her, then, a wry smile on his face. "You want to impress him."

Spencer cocks an eyebrow, skeptical. "Do I?"

"You want him to like you," Toby says and she shrugs as they step onto the front porch. "Even though you've said all along that you _don't care what he thinks_."

"I don't!" Spencer agrees. "But I mean… If he can make an effort, so can I. I always thought I was the bigger person but clearly I'm not."

"No, you are, believe me," Toby shakes his head. "He asked after your behalf obligatorily, I'm sure."

"Wow," Spencer deadpans. "Just when I was starting to kind-of like the guy."

He smirks and rings the doorbell. "Let's get this over with."

Spencer shivers a bit beside him and the air's thinner and colder up here, sure, but it's possibly a bit of unsettled nerves as well. They wait a moment and Toby rings the bell again before they hear a bit of shouting from the other side and it swings open, Daniel looking incredibly irritated the moment they lay eyes on him. "You've lived here your whole life, Toby. What the hell are you ringing the damn bell for?"

"Trying to be polite," Toby shrugs and steps over the threshold into the warm house. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad."

"Yeah, yeah, merry Christmas." He says, reaching out for Toby and Spencer's coats the moment they shed them. "And you, too, Spencer. How're you doing?"

"Good. Good, thank you. Merry Christmas," She smiles almost apprehensively. "This is for you, actually."

She presents him with the bottle tied with a bright red bow and he beams. "Macallan? Ah, a girl after my own heart. You drink this, Spencer?"

"Oh, no, scotch was never really my drink; much more my father's actually," Spencer replies and Daniel scoffs, shaking his head.

"Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd ever have anything in common with Peter Hastings," Daniel says. "Well come in, come in. Whole family's here, waiting for you."

He turns and heads deeper into the house, towards the sound of boisterous arguing and roaring laughter, and Toby quietly asks, "Isn't that bottle like a hundred and twenty dollars? What the _hell_ , Spencer?"

"It's _usually_ a hundred and twenty dollars," She hisses back. "And this is where it pays to know someone at the liquor store."

"You do not still talk to Fitz."

"I do not, but I still like to call in favors every now and then." Spencer shrugs. "He'll be paying off that time he was almost –A and betrayed my best friend until the day he dies."

Toby shakes his head, simultaneously flustered and impressed, and the two head into the family room. It is packed from wall to wall with all of his family members and Spencer glances from end to end, wondering if she's ever seen this much of Toby's family in all her years of dating him. Daniel announces, "Look who it is, everyone. The prodigal son returns."

A chorus of cheers and unintelligible yelling drowns out anything else he says and Spencer can feel Toby tense beside her. When the room quiets, he says, "Hi everyone. Merry Christmas. This is my fiancée, Spencer."

And that's the wrong thing to say, because _everyone_ has something to say about this. The room explodes into commotion and the couple is pulled every which way. Aunt Jess exclaims, " _Fiancée_? You _can't_ be old enough to be getting married! I used to bounce you on my knee right there! Right on the couch!"

Uncle Tim boasts, "Wait until I tell you about that time Toby saved my dog's life. Seriously! Used to play with him all day and night and one day he choked on a gum wrapper. Wouldn't you know it, our Toby, tiniest thing back then, too, reaches down this dog's throat and pulls it out himself! I mean, the smallest hero! And he must've been so afraid!"

Cousin Mike sneers and says, "Look Ma, you were wrong. Someone wanted to marry him after all! And you said he'd never land a girl until he changed his whole personality, remember? You said his lack of ambition and timidity would keep the girls away, but I always thought it would be his terrible clothes and inability to see the world for what it is. Guess we were both wrong!"

And Grandma, of course, chimes in with, "She's too goddamned skinny too! For Christ's sake, does no one eat in New York City?"

"Well, _I_ think you're beautiful," Cousin Amy tells her and pulls her to a sit right beside her on the couch. "What did you say your name was, again? Sarah?"

"Spencer," She replies. "Spencer Hastings."

"Spencer?" Grandma pulls a face. "Boy's name, isn't it?"

"I mean," Spencer shrugs. "I guess it's unisex."

"No, no there's the bank teller named Spencer. He's a man," Grandma corrects her. "The doorman at my building. He's a man. Our Uber driver on the way here? His name was Spencer, too. Your parents trying to give you an identity crisis or something?"

"Hastings," Cousin Amy says, biting her lip. "Why do I know that name?"

"Hastings," Cousin Mike cuts in. "Like Peter and Veronica?"

"Uh, yeah," Spencer says, a bit quieter and she _hates_ when this comes up in conversation. It's a small town and her parents are, unfortunately, good at what they do. This means lots of people have been screwed over by the ones she calls mom and dad. "They're my parents."

"Ugh, I _hate_ Peter Hastings!" Cousin Amy grimaces. "Jack Kirkpatrick, remember him? He sued Rosewood Memorial for malpractice after his son was born with an undetected birth defect. Peter defends the hospital, they win, and Jack ends up _owing_ the hospital two million dollars in medical expenses! _Two million dollars!_ Jack's a housepainter! Where the hell is he going to get the money? How does Peter _sleep_ at night?"

"Oh that's no better than his wife," Cousin Mike adds. "Those new apartments on Water Street? They were only guaranteeing two parking passes per apartment regardless of how many people were on the lease and were _towing_ cars regardless of whether or not people lived there. A bunch of the residents are college students doubling, tripling, _quadrupling_ up on those leases! So what do they do? They make a case, bring it to the court and demand one pass per resident, not per apartment. And who defends the Homeowner's Association? Veronica Hastings. And who wins? Veronica Hastings. And who then limits the passes to one per apartment and convinces the HOA to hire more security and enforce 24-hour towing? _Veronica fucking Hastings!_ "

With each word, Spencer sinks lower and lower into the couch, pleading with the universe, _please kill me. Please just kill me now_. Toby is none-the-wiser; he's in the kitchen speaking with his father and she'll willingly gnaw off her own arm before she interrupts the two men who barely speak enough as it is. And so, she sits here impatiently and continues to take the abuse. Cousin Mike jeers, "Can't believe Toby's marrying a Hastings."

Cousin Amy adds, "Can't believe Uncle Dan's _allowing_ him to marry a Hastings. Not after what happened with Radley. They covered it up, you know. The Hastings' and that DiLaurentis woman."

"Now, now, let's not speak ill of the dead," Aunt Jess purses her lips. "Have you started any wedding planning, Spencer?"

"No, not really," She replies. "We were thinking of maybe-"

"I bet it'll be a destination wedding," Cousin Mike snorts. "Some place none of us have heard of or can easily access."

"It'll be made of gold," Uncle Tim adds in, grinning. "The chairs, the altar, everything. Hell, Peter Hastings has the money to spare."

"You've got to get some meat on your bones first," Grandma shakes her head disapprovingly. "You're the tiniest damn thing."

It's about all she can take. She excuses herself to use the restroom and doesn't come back.

Meanwhile, Toby's in the kitchen doing his best to help his father when he notices one member of his immediate family (aside from the obvious; Christmas was always his mother's favorite time of the year) is noticeably absent. "Dad? Where's Carolyn?"

"Oh, she's… She's not going to make dinner tonight," Daniel replies. "I told her that Jenna was no longer invited and she didn't like the idea of not spending Christmas with her daughter, so… She left."

"Permanently?" Toby wonders and Daniel sighs.

"Well, not yet." He responds. "I just… I can't just forgive her for what she did to you, just like I can't forgive myself or Carolyn for not noticing."

"Yeah," Toby frowns. "It's taken me a long time to get to a good place, Dad. But if I can do it, so can you."

"She wants to forget this whole thing, Carolyn," Daniel says. "I don't want to put it behind us. I want to confront it. And she… Hell, I don't know if our marriage can survive this."

Toby offers, "I'm sorry."

"It is what it is," Daniel shrugs. "I've been thinking and it's just… Maybe I was meant to be alone."

Toby shakes his head. "No one's meant to be alone, Dad."

"You don't understand."

"No, I do, actually," He disagrees. "I thought that for years; back when I didn't have any friends and no one would even give me the time of day, let alone look at or talk to me. But then, you know what happened?"

"What?"

He smiles simply. "I met Spencer."

Daniel smirks. "You're always talking about that girl like she changed your life."

Toby shrugs. "She did."

He steps into the family room, then, and scans the room for her, noting she's missing. Aunt Jess says, "She said she was going to use the bathroom about a half hour ago. I hope she's okay."

"Probably just needed a break," Grandma huffs. "Not all of us can be as friendly as I am."

Toby turns and heads into the hall, searching every room for her and briefly panicking and checking the outdoors to make sure she hasn't taken the truck and driven back to the city without him. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past her; he hadn't witnessed his family's awful conversation with her, but he can guess what it had been about. Ascending the stairs, he almost passes his old bedroom when he notices her, curled up on his bed and flipping through an old, unidentifiable book, a nostalgic grin on her face. He grins, too, at the sight of her and says, "Here you are. I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing?"

"Looking through your old yearbook," She says and turns the particular page towards him. He must be twelve or thirteen and he looks supremely awful. "You are the cutest little dork I've ever seen."

"Alright, alright," Toby says, sitting beside her and glancing at the stringy hair hanging in his eyes. "Long hair was in back then."

"I love your long hair," Spencer tells him sincerely. "It's really soothing to run my hands through. And it's something to hold onto during sex."

"Okay then. That is not what twelve-year-old Toby was thinking about," He says and she chuckles. Turning the pages, he states, "There's got to be a mini Spencer in here, somewhere."

"Ooh, stop, there I am," She cringes. "The last year of the braces. Ugh. I hope our future kids get your teeth."

"You're the cutest! Get out of here," Toby tells her. "Look at those little pigtails. You look twelve."

"Well, I was eleven," She smirks. "Good lord. What a nerd."

"What a dork." Toby adds. "We're both winners."

She smiles and then sobers a bit, saying, "I'm sorry I escaped. I wasn't feeling very merry. Your family tore me apart."

"I had a feeling. I'm so sorry," Toby says. "I was gone for, what? Ten seconds?"

"It felt like ten _years_ ," She groans. "Your cousins are really shitty people who hate my parents so they hate me. Your uncle thinks my father pisses money and your aunt… Well, I don't really know. She didn't say much other than she used to play with you as a baby. And your grandmother! Oh my god!"

"I told you. Didn't I tell you?" Toby shakes his head. "She's a mean old bitch."

Spencer sighs, leaning back against him. "Promise me we will never be like that towards our children, our future in-laws and our grandchildren?"

"Never," Toby agrees. "We'll be together every holiday and we'll welcome everyone and we'll make great memories."

"And I'll never make fun of someone's weight or lack thereof," Spencer adds. "And I'll never call out horrible things their significant other's parents have done. And we'll all talk and laugh and love one another. And we'll sit down to Christmas dinner and have a wonderful time."

"Yeah, that sounds amazing," Toby agrees. "And, honestly, it's not too far away."

"It isn't," Spencer says. "I know we just said we weren't ready for children, but part of me wants to have them _right now_ so we can show your family how it's done; how a _real_ family acts at Christmas."

"Yes, a revenge plot." Toby nods, teasingly. "That's the best reason to have children."

Spencer chuckles and continues to absentmindedly flip through the pages of the yearbook until she gets to the end. "Toby… No one signed this."

"That's not true," He shakes his head and points to the miniscule writing in the corner of the first page. "Mrs. Norwood signed it. She was my math teacher."

" _Toby- you worked very hard this year and I applaud you for that. Keep up the good work and I'll see you next year. Watch out for those cosines!_ " Spencer reads aloud. "Cosines?"

"It was our joke," He smirks. "She didn't even see me the next year; she retired. I guess she just didn't want me to feel bad."

Spencer frowns. "But no _kids_ signed this."

Toby shrugs. "I didn't have friends. You know this."

She purses her lips and eyes his abandoned desk in the corner. "Hand me that pen."

"Are you kidding?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding? Give me the fucking pen."

He obliges, hands raised, and she scribbles furiously for a few moments. When she's finished, she smiles and hands back the yearbook. "Okay. Let's go eat."

"Wait a minute, I don't get to read it, first?" Toby asks and she hops off the bed, pausing in the doorway.

"I guess, but hurry up, because I'm starving," Spencer replies, grinning cheekily. "And you know how I get when my blood sugar drops."

He chuckles and cracks the cover open, beginning to read:

 _Toby,_

 _It's Christmas, fourteen years later, and you're sitting next to me as I write this. I can't fathom or imagine how or why this book is empty, but I have to believe that it's so I could have this whole page to tell you how much you mean to me and how much I love you. In this book, you were a twelve-year-old dork with weird hair and I was an eleven-year-old nerd with awful braces and a kitten sweater and we never spoke. Not once. But now? Now, we're Spencer and Toby and that means something to everyone we know. You're the most incredible man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You're caring and kind and loyal and sweet and so many other qualities that I cherish in a life partner. You're endlessly selfless and unconditionally loving and relentlessly supportive and I couldn't bear the thought of not having you in my life. I cannot wait to marry you. We are going to build such an incredible life together. Merry Christmas, my love. Your love is the best gift you've ever given me and you make everyday feel like Christmas morning._

 _XOXO,_

 _Spencer_

He glances up in awe and she shuffles her feet a bit, almost shyly. "Come on. Let's go eat. Let's get back."

"I love you," Toby says instead, climbing off the bed to pull her into his arms and kiss her over and over. "I love you so much."

She kisses him back, lingering. "I love you, too."

"This has been the weirdest Christmas ever."

She chuckles. "It really has."

"And yet," Toby remarks. "Still great."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees, bringing him in for another kiss. "I think my company has something to do with that."

 _And have yourself a merry little Christmas now…_


	10. may your days be merry and bright

**Hello, hello, hello! Sorry this update is so super late. Today was insane and tomorrow's going to be insane, too, so I imagine tomorrow's update will be just like this one. But it will happen! Because I am determined af to get this out there in the world lololol. Remember a few chapters ago when I was like "Aw man, I wish I could be home for Christmas!" Well, this chapter is a lot like that one. :P  
**

 **Today's chapter is themed off of "White Christmas," something I will never, ever see down here in Florida. :( It is what it is. Thank you for reading and enjoy!**

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may your days be merry and bright

It's been two days and she still can't quite get over it. They're _married_. She's someone's _wife_ now.

She's basically a real, live adult and it's weird as fuck.

It had taken them two years to plan the wedding. Mostly, it was because they were busy, but it was also because she's a detail-oriented, OCD-ridden perfectionist who needed every last aspect of their wedding to be _perfect_ or else she'd go off the wall. Honestly, Spencer is so lucky she found Toby so early in life and that he is so endlessly patient with her, because no one else would ever be able to put up with her nonsense all the time (and now she's married him so he's not backing out of this, either). They're living in a cute and cozy (emphasis on cozy) apartment upstate while they both attempt to rise in their respective careers, paying rent and utilities on time and everything. They make car payments. They buy insurance. They even start a 401k. Spencer wishes teenage-Spencer could see her right now, because she is excelling so hard at adulthood it's not even funny.

(They're not _completely_ there, though. They spend _way_ too much time binge-watching shows on Netflix and buy and build their own cheap furniture from IKEA that _looks_ like they built it themselves and spend every Saturday lazing around together in bed and never getting dressed. Baby steps, right?)

He asked her to marry him accidentally, on her twenty-fourth birthday, after one too many Mai Tais at her luau-themed birthday party. Hanna had taken the liberty of planning and executing this party and the guys wore tropical-print tiki shirts and the girls wore coconut bras and grass skirts and everyone got cheap leis that she'd bought from Party City. Caleb had even hired a fire knife dancer that had left the crowd wide-eyed and awestruck. All in all, it had been an incredible birthday party and Spencer had been feeling the effects of all the alcohol her friends had been pumping into her all night. Toby must have, too, because he'd been much more open and much looser and uninhibited. He'd taken her by the hand and they'd danced drunkenly to the island music and in the middle of all the party chaos, he'd popped the question. He'd looked just as surprised by this fact as she did and she merely nodded and he'd blurted out, "That's not how it was supposed to go." In the morning, with wicked hangovers, they'd laughed and laughed until their sides hurt. She still finds it funny to this day. She's pretty sure she'll never let him live that down.

They'd had a beautiful winter wedding just two days prior, on December 20th. They'd arrived to the ceremony in horse-drawn sleighs instead of limos, had had an indoor, winter wonderland theme with icy trees and sparkling, snow-white lighting and had taken photos outside with the melting snow (ironically, it was fifty degrees and the snow was running into the gutters). Cocktail hour had included spiced apple toddies and hot chocolate spiked with everything under the sun and their sit-down meal had offered their guests a buffet full of comfort foods found around a holiday table. They'd danced for the first time as husband and wife underneath the beautiful chandeliers, seeming to twinkle like icicles, and had had the time of their lives. Easily, it was the best night of Spencer's entire existence. But those who had told them so had been right- their wedding day had gone by in the blink of an eye. And so this morning, the morning of their checkout, they have plans to have brunch with whomever had stuck it out for them and stayed the whole weekend.

Hand in hand, they walk, thoroughly refreshed, through the lobby and nearly a dozen people wish them a merry Christmas. Toby frowns. "In retrospect, getting married this close to Christmas made virtually no sense."

"Yeah. I take full responsibility for that," Spencer chuckles. "But think of it this way- we'll never forget our anniversary-"

"Spencer! We were _never_ going to forget! Come on, it's us!"

"-we'll have something else to celebrate this time of year instead of just getting caught up in holiday craziness-"

"True, but will you make the time for us? You're _so_ busy."

"- and we saved _literally_ thousands on this venue because it's twice the price in the spring and summer." Spencer concludes. "And _what_ are you talking about? You've been busier than me, lately."

"Yeah, that's actually true, too," Toby sighs. "You've got me beat on this one."

"Ha," Spencer grins gleefully. "Your wife is always right, Toby. Better learn that now."

He smiles at the term. "My _wife_. How weird is that?"

"So fucking weird," Spencer agrees. "We've been together for so long and now it's like… by law, you cannot leave me."

He chuckles. "I wasn't going to leave you by anything else."

They walk through the open doors of the banquet hall that held their reception not thirty-six hours ago. Mingling leftover wedding guests greet them excitedly as they pass and again, Spencer and Toby thank them for attending. They spend a good twenty minutes or so speaking with both sets of parents, utterly astounded that they'd both stayed longer than they were expected to, before their rumbling stomachs beckon for food. Loading their plates high with goodies from both breakfast and lunch (goodbye, wedding dress diet!), Spencer searches for an open spot, Toby close behind her, and spots Aria waving from the corner, all their friends surrounding an ornately dressed table by the window. They take their seats eagerly, eyeing their meal selections with longing, before the conversation resumes around them.

"Your sister's dress?" Aria starts, shaking her head. "Holy crap. She looked like Bjork."

"Yeah, I think she was going for that, actually," Spencer chuckles, chewing contemplatively on a piece of bacon. "I hear feathers are coming back."

"From _who?_ " Hanna exclaims. "As someone who's been involved in the fashion industry her whole life, I can confirm that is, indeed, false."

"Regardless, it was a beautiful wedding," Emily compliments and from beside her, Paige nods.

"Best one I've been to thus far."

"Because you haven't seen ours yet," Caleb chimes in teasingly, linking hands with Hanna. "Country hoedown of the century coming your way next June!"

Spencer pulls a face and Toby asks, "Country hoedown?"

"Wow, Han," Aria smirks. "That doesn't really seem like your scene."

"Yeah, because it's not," Hanna rolls her eyes. "Caleb has this _adorable_ new thing where he throws out random theme weddings he knows I'll hate just to get a reaction from me."

"The wedding from outer space!" Caleb winks at her. "It's going to be big."

"Aw, a little alien ring bearer?" Emily grins. "Champagne from the cosmos?"

"Do _not_ encourage him!" Hanna chastises. "Jesus Christ, I'm just going to marry myself."

"Ooh, you guys already fight like an old married couple," Aria comments. "Which is weird, because _they_ are the only married couple, here."

Toby and Spencer both share a grin and Emily asks, "Yeah, how does _that_ feel? You're both such adults now. Married and everything."

"It's weird, honestly," Spencer shrugs and Toby agrees.

"It doesn't feel any different," He adds. "Maybe on the honeymoon it'll sink in?"

"Oh, you leave today, don't you?" Emily asks and they both nod. "That's so exciting! Are you totally thrilled?"

" _I_ am," Spencer says, nudging her husband. "This one is a little less pleased."

"No, of _course_ I'm excited for our honeymoon. I've never been to Hawaii and it's going to be such a great time. Plus, we need the alone time," Toby explains. "But… We're going to be there for Christmas."

"Ugh, what a travesty," Hanna teases. "A honeymoon suite in a beautiful, all-inclusive resort on a tropical island for Christmas. What a fucking _drag_."

"Hanna," Toby shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. It's just… It doesn't _snow_ in Hawaii. And who doesn't have snow on Christmas?"

"Um, we won't, at this rate," Caleb replies, glancing out the window as more of the snow melts into the gutter. "It's unseasonably warm."

"It really is. I didn't even need a jacket walking over here," Aria agrees with him.

Paige reasons, "Well, you'll have white sand beaches, right? That's sort of close."

"That's the closest thing I'll get," Toby says. "It's fine. It's not a real problem. I just wish we were going somewhere where there's snow."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to freeze my ass off on my honeymoon, so we're going to Hawaii," Spencer replies and Caleb smirks.

"Wow. So this is what marriage is like, huh?" He teases them and Spencer shoots him a pointed look. "No say?"

"You better get used to it," Hanna tells him. "You think I don't run this ship?"

"Yeah, yeah," Caleb rolls his eyes. "As long as I get my under the sea wedding. It's going to be epic."

" _Ugh!_ "

Upon the conclusion of brunch, they bid farewell to their family and friends, check out of their wedding suite and head straight to the airport, their honeymoon awaiting them. It's a ten-hour flight altogether and once they're in the air for the long haul, Spencer turns to ask, "Are you disappointed we're going to Hawaii?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Toby disagrees. "I'm so excited, are you kidding? We're going to _Hawaii_. For the first time, might I add, and we're going to spend the entire week lying on a beach. That sounds incredible."

"Okay," She replies hesitantly. "Because you seemed really underwhelmed when we were talking about it with our friends."

"No, no, Spencer, that's not…" He trails off, shaking his head. "It's not Hawaii. It's not the honeymoon at all. I'm really excited to spend a whole week doing absolutely nothing with you. It's the dream."

She grins but senses there's more. "But?"

"But," He frowns. "Christmas won't really feel like Christmas if we're looking at palm trees and it's eighty-two degrees outside."

"I know," Spencer replies. "And I completely agree with you. But you _kind of_ have to let that go, because your uncharacteristic negativity is bumming me out. It's our _honeymoon_ , Toby. We only get one of these."

"I'm sorry," Toby insists, taking her hand. "It's my first Christmas without snow. It's going to be _so_ weird."

"I know it is."

"But I don't want to do this to you or our honeymoon," He says. "So I'll stop talking about it."

"You can talk about whatever you want," She tells him. "I don't want you to be like… what did Caleb say? That you have no say?"

"I've never felt like that." Toby assures her. "Really, I haven't. Maybe that's how Caleb and Hanna deal with things, with ultimatums and one of them having more say than the other and stuff like that, but we aren't like that. I like to think we're equals, don't you?"

"Yes," She sighs in relief. "I was just making sure you felt that way, too."

"We _both_ chose Hawaii. We _both_ chose December 20th," Toby says. "So I guess I shouldn't be shocked that it's the twenty-second now and we're going to be on an island for Christmas."

"It's okay," Spencer nods. "Just think of it as Santa's summer home."

Toby laughs, his head thrown back, and Spencer grins, elated just as well as he is. Below the aircraft, there is nothing to see for miles save for ocean and the closer and closer they grow, the more the anticipation begins to build within them. A series of islands comes into view moments later and they land safe and sound at the airport with palm trees swaying across bright blue skies. Hand in hand, they deplane the aircraft and a kind-looking man is waiting there for them, his sign reading, _Newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh_. Spencer's eyes widen and when she glances to Toby, he's got a smug grin on his face; he's planned this all along. This kind man introduces himself, picks up their bags from the claim for them and then escorts them to a limo waiting just outside the airport and waiting to take them to their resort. They are welcomed with leis made of fresh flowers and are staying in the honeymoon suite that overlooks the rolling seas. When they make it to their room, they find rose petals scattered across the bed, a complimentary bottle of champagne and chocolates, and the doors to the balcony are spread wide open, allowing the curtains to billow romantically in the island breeze.

It is, in a word, paradise.

"Let's go down to the beach," Spencer suggests, but Toby's already yawning and slipping his shoes off.

"Let's take a nap." He says instead. "Come on. It's almost midnight in Pennsylvania. I'm exhausted. It's been a long weekend, you know."

"Toby, we have plenty of time to sleep," She tugs on his hand uselessly. "Come on! The sun is starting to set. It's going to be beautiful."

"Better plan," Toby replies. "Let's order room service and watch the sunset from here."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Okay. I'm going to the beach without you. Have fun eating in bed and drinking that whole bottle of champagne by yourself."

Toby cocks an eyebrow at her. "Um, I will?"

"Yeah, that actually sounds incredible. Please don't start without me," Spencer pleads and heads for the door. "I just need to stick my feet in the sand."

"Okay, okay, you win," Toby groans, standing and reaching for her hand. "Let's go watch the sunset."

"It's romantic as fuck," Spencer remarks and he chuckles. "God, why would people honeymoon anywhere else?"

"You got me," Toby says as the elevator dings and they step into it, descending.

The pinks and oranges and bright, bright yellows meld together as the blazing sun sinks into the horizon, the ocean swallowing it whole. Spencer watches, wide-eyed, and comments, "Wow. I've never seen anything like that in my life."

"Yeah," He agrees from beside her, mostly just enjoying the look on her face. "It's incredibly beautiful."

"Isn't this better than getting sleep?"

"Of course it is. I'm with you, aren't I? Everything is infinitely better when I'm with you."

She glances at him, pulling a face. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I highly doubt that," He disagrees, pulling her in for a kiss. She has to give him this one.

The sky turns from a shady pink to a deep purple and then an omniscient black. They watch as stars appear from their sleepy slumber and grow a bit tired, themselves. Spencer asks, "Should we get dinner somewhere?"

"We could," He shrugs. "Or we could go with my original room service idea and not have to worry about making ourselves presentable."

Spencer smirks. "You just don't want to have to put on real clothes."

"That is accurate."

Laughing, she agrees. "Yes, let's order room service. Hopefully they're fast; I'm starving."

As they pass through the library and are waiting for the elevator, the faint sounds of music begin to emanate from the distance and Toby asks, "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah. What is it?" Spencer wonders and when they turn, a traveling group of singers, the middle one with a ukulele, surrounds them, grinning.

" _Mele kalikimaka is the thing to say on a bright Hawaiian Christmas day_ ," They croon beautifully and the couple smiles appreciatively. " _That's the island greeting that we send to you from the land where palm trees sway._ "

"Aw," Spencer grins. "Because there are three days until Christmas, right?"

" _Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright. The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night. Mele kalikimaka is Hawaii's way to say merry Christmas to you!_ "

"Thank you," She applauds as Toby does the same. "Merry Christmas to you, too!"

They nod and head off to find a new couple to serenade. On the way up to their suite, Spencer says, "That was so sweet, wasn't it?"

"Still doesn't feel like Christmas," Toby shrugs. "I'm sorry. It was nice. But it's not… It's not what Christmas is."

"It is if you've lived here all your life and this is all you know," Spencer shrugs. "Come on, think about it. If someone from here went to Pennsylvania for Christmas, _that_ wouldn't feel like Christmas to them. It's all based on what you grew up with."

"Well, I grew up with pine trees, not palm," Toby tells her. "Children giddy over Santa. Sleigh rides through the snow. _That's_ Christmas to me."

"I get it," Spencer agrees, contemplating the room service menu. "What sounds better- loaded potato skins or parmesan truffle fries?"

"Potatoes are involved?" Toby asks. "The answer is always both."

She laughs and the two order their meals, barely able to keep their eyes open long enough to eat, and when they do arrive, they shovel food greedily into their mouths before passing out entangled in one another's limbs as well as their empty plates and glasses, not even bothering to climb under the sheets and blankets. Housekeeping wakes them well after eleven the next morning and they shuffle a bit, disoriented, to get out of her way so they can have a clean room. They change into their suits, grab a quick breakfast downstairs and then set out for the sandy beaches, determined to have a wonderful first full day of their honeymoon. The seas are calm and are the bluest blue she's only ever seen mirrored in Toby's eyes and they lie in identical lounge chairs and when he grins lazily over at her, she knows this is it. All that suffering she'd endured, all that stress and heartache they'd overcome, had all been leading up to this very moment.

"How expensive is Hawaii?" Toby asks then and Spencer smirks. "No, I'm serious! Let's move. Nothing's tying us down to Pennsylvania except our parents."

"Our apartment, our friends, our _jobs_ ," Spencer lists. "Not to mention I can't listen to you complain about not getting a white Christmas for the rest of our lives."

"Okay, okay, I surrender," Toby shakes his head. "I just thought it would be nice."

"We'll have plenty of freezing cold Christmases up ahead," Spencer says. "Let's enjoy this nice warm one."

"Oh, I'm enjoying it," Toby nods. "Should we get drinks? We should get drinks right?"

"Well, as a wise woman once said," Spencer begins and Toby prepares himself for the most intellectual quote of the century. That's not what comes out of her mouth. "It's five o'clock somewhere."

He chuckles and they both stand, heading for the bar. "A wise woman?"

"Sure. I like to imagine it as someone who ran one of those underground speakeasies back in the twenties," Spencer says. "Or even as a suffragette or a woman of color fighting for civil rights. After a long hard day of fighting the patriarchal society, you bet your ass that woman needed a drink."

Toby remarks, impeccably impressed, "I like the way you think."

She bumps his hip with hers. "I knew you only married me for my brain."

"Damn. You're on to me," He jokes and asks, "What are you going to get?"

"I'm thinking a piña colada or a blue Hawaiian," Spencer contemplates and then, teasingly, asks, "Are you going to get a Mai Tai?"

"No way," Toby shakes his head adamantly and she chuckles. "We do not have a good reputation together."

"Why? It worked out," Spencer shrugs. "I said yes and we're married. Now we get to live happily ever after."

"I know," Toby reasons. "But I was _not_ going to ask you like that. I wanted your birthday to be about you, not about _us_. And I had this whole thing planned; I mean, it wasn't _huge_ , but that's never been our style, anyway, and I just… I let the rum do the talking instead and I ruined it."

"You didn't ruin anything," Spencer says. "Look, I'm sure whatever you had planned would have been incredible and, obviously, I would've said yes then, too. But I love the way you proposed. It was spontaneous. It took me by surprise. And it was _totally_ memorable… Especially when you threw up on my grass skirt."

"That was later. That was way, way later," Toby shakes his head. "Thank God I didn't do _that_ in the moment."

"It's okay," Spencer smirks. "It's the first time you were ever drunk. Who knew rum didn't like you very much?"

"Well I know, now," He chuckles and she laughs, too. "You were so good to me. Taking care of me, bringing me water, like I was some drunk sorority girl."

"You basically were," Spencer teases and he rolls his eyes despite the grin on his face. "My poor baby. Handling alcohol like a rookie freshman at his first college party."

"Yeah, yeah," He waves this off. "You know, your birthday party was the main reason I wanted to go to Hawaii for our honeymoon."

"Why?" Spencer jokes. "Because you couldn't get enough of the plastic flowers, the tacky tikis and the fake grass skirts?"

"No," Toby shakes his head. "Because I _kind of_ ruined your night by getting insanely drunk, but you were enjoying yourself so much beforehand that I wanted to take you to the real thing."

"You didn't ruin my night at all," Spencer assures him. "But that's still the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

They order and pay for their drinks, heading back to their perfect spot on the beach to watch the waves roll in. She had, in fact, gone with the blue Hawaiian, and it isn't long before she is _feeling_ it. "This is _so_ good."

"Yeah?" Toby laughs. "Your mouth is blue."

She wipes at her face defensively. "No, it's not!"

"You look like you ate the Smurfs."

"The Smurfs?" She scrunches her nose. "What an old reference. I'm pretty sure they were even before our time, Toby."

"They made a comeback a few years ago," Toby shrugs. "I don't know. It was the first blue thing I could think of."

She grins. "How's your drink?"

"It's okay. Not very strong, which is a good thing," Toby says. "One of us has to keep our wits about us."

"Why?" Spencer asks innocently. "You don't see me stumbling or throwing up, do you?"

"Ouch. Low blow. Low blow," He shakes his head and she chuckles. "Is this not weird to you?"

"What? Drinking?"

"No, sitting here-"

"Making fun of your low alcohol intolerance?"

"Wow, no. I was going to say-"

"Having the most relaxing day I think I've had in my life?"

"Well, actually yeah," Toby nods. "But I was going to say sitting here drinking on a beach two days before Christmas?"

"Oh shut up about Christmas already!" Spencer insists and tosses her empty glass aside, using her lips instead to fuse with his.

They kiss feverishly for a few moments before he pulls back to ask, "Are you just kissing me to shut me up?"

"Yes," Spencer replies and kisses him again.

After a beat, he wonders, "Trying to distract me from the lack of snow and general Christmas feeling?"

"Is it working?"

"Absolutely."

They spend all of Christmas Eve in bed. It's Spencer's general idea to keep Toby's mind on her and _off_ of Christmas entirely. To say it works would be an understatement; she actually wonders, at one point, if her body will combust from too much sex. She decides it's a way to go that she will endure happily. They'd been so utterly exhausted the night of their wedding that they hadn't even bothered having sex, but in just this day alone, they have _certainly_ made up for it in spades. That night, when they finally manage to tear their insatiable selves away from one another, they attend a real, live authentic luau on the beach, with a whole spit-roasted pig and a fire knife dancer who sets the baton ablaze with his tongue. It leaves them completely in awe and they walk along the beach back towards their suite, speechless.

"I could see you doing that, you know," Spencer teases. "Fire dancing."

"Are you serious? I have _zero_ coordination," Toby shakes his head. "I'd probably set the entire stage on fire and melt my face off."

"I'd still love you," She shrugs and he smirks, rolling his eyes. They pass the shaved ice stand that rarely, if ever, has a line, and Spencer exclaims, "Ooh, I want that. Do you want one?"

"How can you even think about food?" Toby shakes his head, gripping his stomach. "We just ate half our weight at that luau. I'm _so_ full."

"It's dessert," Spencer says. "And it's literally ice. I'm sure you could make room."

He shakes his head and, as the man behind the counter prepares Spencer's, he says, "It's okay. Business is slow. You're the first order in weeks."

Spencer's eyes soften and she turns to her husband, urging, "Buy a shaved ice."

"What?"

"Buy a damn shaved ice!" Spencer says, accepting hers gratefully and adding, "He'll have one too. Thank you."

"No, no, thank you," The man nods and duplicates the order.

On the walk back, Toby shakes his head, saying, "I don't even want this! You just felt bad for him."

"Didn't you hear him? He said no one's buying!" Spencer sighs as they cross the threshold into their suite. "The poor guy. He doesn't deserve for his business to fail."

"I doubt it's his business," Toby reasons. "He probably works in the hotel and just mans the stand when he has to."

"Still," She shrugs and tosses her empty carton into the receptacle. "It was good though, wasn't it?"

"It was," He concedes and joins her on the balcony. "It's beautiful here at night."

"It is," She agrees. "It's Christmas Eve, can you believe that?"

"December flew by," He nods. "Even though it doesn't feel like Christmas _at all_ -"

"Okay, I walked myself right into that one."

Toby chuckles. "Let's sleep. I don't know why, but I'm exhausted."

"It's because all we did today was have sex and eat," Spencer laughs and he grins.

"A honeymoon well spent."

On Christmas morning, Toby awakens in a completely empty hotel room. The sun is gleaming through the opening in the palm fronds outside their window and there is a handful of wrapped Christmas presents on the desk on the opposite side of the room with his name on them, but his lovely wife is nowhere to be found. On her pillow is a piece of hotel stationery and he rubs his eyes and reads, _Good morning love. Merry Christmas! Please meet me in Ballroom II where your present awaits (dress warmly!)._ He eyes the note and then eyes the stack of presents on the desk and grows very, very confused. He sends her text reading, _Where are you?_ Before stepping out of bed and throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, the warmest clothing he'd packed for Hawaii, a tropical island whose temperatures rarely dipped below seventy. After running a hand through his hair and a toothbrush through his mouth, Spencer replies, _See note._ He frowns. Can't she just make this easy for him?

Ballroom II is the smallest and is in the furthest corner of the lobby. Toby shivers and from what, he can't quite figure out, but when he pushes the doors open, his eyes widen in astonishment. The entire floor is covered in what appears to be snow and more of this mysterious substance is falling from a billowing curtain on the ceiling. In the middle of the floor, Spencer is building an igloo with makeshift gloves and when she hears the doors open, she glances up and grins. "Hey! There you are. Merry Christmas!"

"What the…" He trails off, stepping closer as that familiar crunch of snow sounds from beneath his boots. "What is going on right now?"

"Well…" She shrugs. "You said it didn't feel like Christmas without snow, so… I got you some snow."

"How…?" Toby wonders. "How did you even do this?"

"Well I hate to be that kid in your third grade class who tells you Santa isn't real, but the snow isn't either," Spencer breaks the news gently and he chuckles. "Remember last night? With the shaved ice?"

Toby grins. "You didn't."

"I bought his entire stock… and then some."

"You are incredible," Toby says and pulls her closer, kissing her over and over. "I can't even believe you did this for me."

"Well, I wanted you to have a Christmas that actually felt like Christmas." Spencer tells him. "And Hawaii's been great but it's definitely not a place that fits that description."

"I love it. Thank you," Toby replies. "And I love you."

"I love you, too."

"But," Toby points out. "You did get _one_ thing wrong."

"What?" Spencer asks, alarmed. "Too much on the ground and not enough in the air?"

"Not exactly."

"Is it the igloo?" Spencer then wonders. "The left side is a little lopsided, but I thought I made up for it with the right."

"No," Toby grins. "Christmas will always feel like Christmas as long as I'm with you."

 _And may all your Christmases be white…_


	11. all is calm, all is bright

**Good evening friends! It is good to be back here on Christmas Eve Eve with the penultimate chapter of this story! Hopefully the day finds you well and you're getting into that Christmas spirit as best you can because it is in two days! Insane, right? It came so fast this year. Anyway, today's chapter throws it back to the days of Grace, Lilly and Henry because ya girl can't let go. I'm sorry if you're sick of them. I might be able to move on, one day.**

 **Today's chapter is themed off of "Silent Night." Thank you for your continued support. I love you all!**

* * *

all is calm, all is bright

Christmas has always been one of his favorite times of the year but there are three Christmases he's experienced over his lifetime that he wishes he could completely forget.

The first would, without a doubt, be the year before his mother passed away. Christmas had come much too quickly that year and Marion had, despite her condition, decided she would still decorate and cook Christmas dinner as she'd always done. A thirteen-year-old Toby had hovered uselessly in the kitchen, part of him desperate for the Christmas traditions they'd once shared together and the other part hardly daring to believe she was well enough to perform them. They'd baked cookies after unwrapping presents and she'd started the ham before retreating to her bedroom beneath a gloomy cloud, too much activity for her for one afternoon. Toby had, in his own misery, forgotten all about their dinner and when his father had entered and commented on the strong smell of smoke, his eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. Their oven had caught on fire, the fire department had been dispatched and the neighbors watched through their windows and whispered behind their hands for weeks. Daniel had grumbled all night about their ruined meal, their ruined day, their ruined Christmas and Toby had tried his hardest to drown out the sounds of his mother's guttural sobbing from down the hall. It hadn't been a merry Christmas at all and Marion had been committed two weeks later.

Coincidentally, the second Christmas he wishes he could forget would be the very next year, two months following his mother's untimely demise. He hadn't been feeling very festive and was still finding himself overcome with grief at random points of the day. But Daniel had all but moved on, for he had a brand new wife and a brand new family and he didn't even mention Marion once. Toby had woken up on Christmas morning to find presents under the tree, but no Christmas cheer in his heart, and instead, he'd remained in his bedroom, trying desperately to wish the sadness away. After what seemed like hours, Toby had gone downstairs to find that his new family was eating Christmas dinner without him and he wished he could be surprised or disappointed or angry, but he wasn't. He wasn't feeling anything, anymore. Instead, he'd pulled on a coat and boots and walked to the mausoleum, deciding to spend Christmas with his mother like he was desperate to all along.

And easily, this Christmas is number three.

It starts off completely and beautifully innocent. The kids are young enough that Christmas is still a huge deal; Grace hasn't completely turned over to the dark side of teenage-hood, at twelve, and is still as excitable and fun as she had been as a little girl, and Lilly and Henry, at six and four, respectively, wake up at the crack of dawn to inspect the gifts Santa had left behind with pure delight. They open presents and eat sticky cinnamon buns as per tradition and stay in their pajamas much longer than they probably ever should. As usual, Toby and Spencer dread the moment they must depart their cozy, loving home for her parents' in Rosewood, but it's Christmas tradition and so they load their car up with their bundled children and head down. They're the first ones to arrive, as they always are, and it never ceases to amaze Toby, honestly. Wren and Melissa live much closer and logistically, it doesn't quite make sense.

"Grandma!" Henry squeals with delight as Veronica opens the door and ushers them inside to shield them from the onslaught of snow.

"Hi Henry!" Veronica beams and scoops him into an embrace. "Oh, it's been too long! You're so big now! You're almost taller than me."

"Nah uh," He shakes his head. "I only grew four inches."

"He's freakishly tall for four, I think," Grace adds, accepting her hug from her grandmother next. "He's like a giant. He's almost taller than Lilly."

"No I'm not!" Henry shrieks. "I'm not a giant!"

"Oh honey," Veronica waves off his concerns. "It's alright. Lilly's always been a little tinier than most girls her age, right? All that NICU time couldn't have helped."

"What's a NICU?" Lilly asks and Spencer pushes hair away from her face, shaking her head.

"Don't worry, baby," Spencer tells her. "You're perfect the way you are."

"Well hello to you too," Veronica purses her lips, bringing her daughter in for a hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mom," Spencer returns. "We beat Melissa again, huh?"

"That you did," Veronica says. "She said she and Wren were having some trouble, but they'll be here as soon as they can."

"Hmm," Spencer bites her lip. "Trouble?"

"Don't start," Veronica warns and smiles brightly when she greets Toby next. "Hi honey, how are you? Doing well?"

"Great. How are you?" He asks and she nods her wellbeing. "Merry Christmas."

"Oh, merry Christmas to you, too, Toby!"

"Is that the Cavanaugh clan I hear?" Peter asks, coming from the dining room and the kids grin at the sight of their grandfather, standing to embrace him. "Well get over here! Give Grandpa a hug!"

They oblige gleefully and Toby watches from the sidelines, feeling rather joyous himself. Peter certainly isn't a perfect grandfather, just as he hadn't been a perfect father either, but he'll always be light years better than Daniel and for some reason, this makes his heart ache. As if his wife senses this, Spencer glances at him and asks, "Everything okay?"

He nods. "Sure."

The children launch into a rousing conversation with him; Henry starts by saying, "Grandpa, I got the _coolest_ helicopter from Santa and it lights up and makes noise and everything!"

"A helicopter? A real one?" Peter wonders and Henry erupts into more giggles than his tiny body can take.

"No! You can't go in there!"

"Are you going to learn to fly by Tuesday?" Peter then asks. "Maybe you can fly us all to the Poconos."

"The Poconos!" Henry cheers instead.

Grace chimes, "Ooh Grandpa, Mom and Dad got me brand new snow boots to wear and they are super cute. Remember last year how mine had the hole in them and my socks got all soggy from the snow?"

"Oh yeah. Good thing you've got the new ones. I don't need my girl getting frostbite," Peter says and to his youngest granddaughter, who's remained quite quiet as usual, he asks, "How about you, Lil? You excited for our family vacation?"

She nods, a small smile on her face, and Peter smirks, shaking his head. "Well, you're so darn quiet, I'd never know."

Spencer sighs and tells Toby, "My parents don't understand our kids like we do."

"Does anyone?" Toby asks her and, at that very moment, receives a text from his own father, which he reads aloud. " _Merry Christmas to you, Spencer and the kids. Love, Dad._ Wow. I got a 'love' this year."

"Wow, he's really making strides," Spencer smirks. "Although the kids are still just 'the kids'. Wonder if Heather wrote it; she doesn't know Lilly's name, after all."

"Nah, Heather wouldn't write me a day in her life," Toby shakes his head. "I can tell this is from my father because it's lukewarm with just the right amount of apathy."

Spencer's smile falters but before she can comment, the front door of the Hastings' house bursts open and Vivian enters, her visage entirely frantic as she looks behind her and pleads, " _Don't_ ask Mom if she's okay. She's not."

"Thanks for the warning, Viv," Spencer greets her niece, hugging her and planting a kiss against her cheek despite the teenager's protests. "Something you did or your father?"

"I don't know," She shrugs. "She's been screaming at us all morning and she started crying on the way here. She's been like that a lot, lately. Dad keeps saying she's crazy."

Spencer stiffens beside him and Toby places a hand on her shoulder. _Not now_. "Hi Viv. Merry Christmas."

"Hi Uncle Toby," Vivian sighs and then plops on the couch next to Grace, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "Ew, you still have that _ridiculous_ sweater?"

Grace reaches for a carrot on the coffee table full of appetizers, muttering, "You still have that _ridiculous_ attitude?"

Wren comes in next, ruffling Henry's hair and kissing Lilly's crown and airily greeting his mother and sister-in-law before turning to his father and brother-in-law and suggesting, "Peter, Toby. What would you say to a drink, gentlemen?"

Toby is about to reply with a _hell no_ when Melissa enters the house, arms full of presents and platters of food, shutting the door behind her. Icily, she glares at her husband and hisses, "Thanks for the help, _dear_."

"You said you could handle it, _darling_ ," Wren shoots back and Spencer and Toby share a glance, eyes wide.

"I brought chocolates from that shop on 82nd Street. Henry, don't touch the striped ones," Melissa warns her nephew as he eyes the package greedily. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

"Merry Christmas," Spencer replies hesitantly and the rest of the room is silent, watching.

"Honey," Veronica tries. "Are you-"

"Grandma!" Vivian snaps, her face looking eerily similar to her mother's in this moment. "I mean it."

To everyone's surprise, Melissa asks, "Toby? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Um," He falters for a moment and chances a glance at his wife, who looks just as perplexed as he feels. "Sure."

He follows her through the house until they reach the dining room, out of earshot of the rest of the family members. Feeling incredibly awkward, Toby glances at the ornate table settings and fiddles with the Christmas cloth before asking, "So… What's up?"

"Toby," Melissa sighs. "You're a man, right?"

Toby smirks. "That's what they tell me."

At this, Melissa almost cracks a smile and he's sure she would have had she not been lost in her own anger and misery. "Then can you tell me _why_ men are such unsatisfied, dishonest, untrustworthy, disloyal _slugs_?"

"Well…" Toby trails off, not quite sure how to grasp this one. "I'm not a hundred percent sure what you're talking about and you and I have never really been close, so you're going to have to walk me through this."

"I'm sorry I dragged you in here," Melissa exhales heavily and sinks into one of the dining chairs. "I don't know why I thought you could help me, but-"

"Hey, I didn't say I couldn't," Toby shrugs and takes the chair opposite her. "What's up?"

"You've been with my sister for how long now?"

"Uh…" He thinks a moment because it's been _that_ long and he doesn't know offhand. "About twenty years."

"Twenty _fucking_ years. Jesus Christ," Melissa shakes her head. "And you've been happy since day one?"

"Completely," Toby confirms. "What's your point?"

"And you haven't _once_ thought about what it would be like if you two weren't together?" Melissa asks. "And if you had dated and married someone else?"

"Well, sure, everyone thinks about that," Toby shrugs. "It's scary to think about where I'd be if Spencer and I hadn't gotten together or what my life would be like without her. I'd be miserable. And our kids… They wouldn't even exist."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Melissa says. "I mean… In the time that you've been married, you've not _once_ thought about seeing someone else, have you?"

"Oh. _Oh._ " Toby exclaims as the realization dawns on him. "You mean like… Like cheating? Like going behind Spencer's back and having an affair?"

Melissa remains silent, only nods, and Toby can't get his answer out fast enough. "Absolutely not. Not _once_. I love Spencer so much, I can't imagine… I would never do that to her. I would never even _want_ that. She's it for me. She's always been it."

"Yeah, and you know why? Because you're a good fucking person," Melissa groans. "I knew you were going to say that. I wasn't trying to test you with some big sister shit. I knew you were going to say you haven't even _looked_ at another girl in twenty years because you're still drooling over Spencer and worshipping the fucking ground she walks on."

"I mean, I wouldn't go that far, but yeah," Toby nods. "Yeah, you're exaggerating to make a point."

Melissa says, "If I dragged Wren in here and asked him those same questions, do you know what he would say?"

"Not what I said," Toby says, choosing his words carefully.

"No! Not at all! He'd-" Melissa exclaims and then pauses, calling, "Spencer, I know you're eavesdropping at the door. Twenty some-odd years later and this is _still_ your tactic?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping!" She insists, pushing the dining room door open, her arms full of silverware. "Mom wanted me to set the table."

Melissa purses her lips. "The table's already set."

Spencer bites her lip and says, "Um, right, so I'll just-"

"Just sit the fuck down," Melissa gives in and Spencer sinks into the chair beside Toby. "I think Wren's cheating on me."

Neither Spencer nor Toby make a single movement; they don't even blink. Melissa whines, "Jesus Christ and this isn't even a _surprise!_ Do you already know? Who is it? How long has it been happening? Why haven't you _told_ me?"

"Okay, first of all," Spencer says. "We know literally nothing. This is the first we're hearing of it if it's even true. Second, if he was going to cheat, do you _really_ think he'd tell _us_ about it?"

"And third," Toby adds. "We didn't have much of a reaction because… Well, look at his track record, Melissa."

"But we have a baby," Melissa says. "I mean, she's fourteen, but she's still our _baby_. How can he do this to her? To us?"

"You don't even know if it's true," Spencer points out. "I'm sorry if it is and I wouldn't put it past him, to be honest, but at least find out the truth first."

Toby asks, "Have you asked him to explain himself?"

"Every time I do we get into this huge fight and…" Melissa trails off. "Honestly, I don't even want to know. If it is true, then how _dare_ he do this to me and to our daughter but if it isn't, then… How dare he make me think he did."

"I wish I could be of more help," Toby frowns. "I'm sorry, I just… I don't have the kind of experience you were hoping for."

"No, you have been helpful, actually," Melissa tells him. "I just wanted to ask your opinion and get your perspective so I know that not all hope is lost when it comes to men."

Spencer says, "I always told you that you could do better."

"I didn't ask for your smugness," Melissa's eyes narrow before turning back to Toby. "I don't have a lot of friends and the ones I _do_ have would publically shame our family if I ever _dared_ to bring this up, which is why I'm asking you for advice. What do you think I should do?"

"Well, hear him out, first and foremost." Toby suggests. "You have to get his side of things. And then once you do, you decide for yourself what to believe."

"It could all just be a big misunderstanding," Spencer shrugs. "Or it could be real. But you need to know for a fact."

"Mommy," Henry pokes his head in, glancing at the three adults, before coming closer and pulling himself into his mother's lap. "My mouth feels all tingly."

"It does?" Spencer asks, pushing his hair out of his eyes in order to inspect his face a bit further. "And why is that? Too much sugar already?"

Henry shakes his head. "Grandma only let me have _one_ cookie."

"Wow. Grandma's laying down the law?" Toby jokes. "That's a first."

"My mouth is really tingly and dry," Henry whines and then coughs once and then twice. "My throat is scratchy."

Spencer looks a bit closer and asks, "What is all over your face?"

"He looks like he's breaking out," Toby comments and leans a bit closer, his own eyes widening. "Spencer, he's covered in hives."

"Oh my god," She exclaims. "Henry, what did you eat?"

"Grandpa gave me a chocolate," Henry says, his voice raspy, and he coughs again. "The ones Aunt Melissa brought."

"Henry!" Melissa shrieks. "Did you eat a striped one? I told you not to touch those!"

"Grandpa gave it to me," He repeats and then says, "My tongue feels funny. It's like it's wearing fuzzy slippers."

"What was in the striped one?" Spencer asks, frantic. "Melissa! What was it?"

"The ones with sprinkles were sea-salt caramels," She replies, her eyes like saucers. "The striped ones were chocolate-covered strawberries."

"Henry!" Toby scolds. "You're _allergic_ to strawberries!"

"I told you already!" Henry whines, tears in his eyes as he coughs twice more. "Grandpa gave it to me!"

"I'll go see if Mom has any Benadryl," Melissa says, scurrying up from her chair and heading off, up the stairs.

"Oh my god," Spencer keeps repeating. "Oh my god."

"Momma," Henry then says, his voice thick. "My tongue feels funny."

"He literally looks like he's been put on Novocain," Toby says. "He's drooling all over the place.

"It's so big!" He rasps, his speech altered greatly and nearly unintelligible. "It's hanging! I'm like a doggie!"

"Oh my god, Henry, please," Spencer shakes her head, still cradling him like an infant. "Just try to breath through your nose, okay?"

"My throat hurts," He whines. "My doggie tongue is in the way."

"Um, his tongue is _huge_ ," Toby says. "This is past Benadryl, at this point. I think we need to get him to the hospital."

Spencer glances at her son, who has his tongue in between his thumb and forefinger and has a wry grin on his face. "Mommy! I can lick a big Popsicle now!"

He bursts into hysterical laughter, repeating over and over, "It's too big! It's too big!" Toby and Spencer jump into action, pulling on his coat and their own and struggling to find snow boots while simultaneously eyeing the storm outside. Melissa cries, frantic, "I found Benadryl but it's expired!"

"It's no use!" Spencer replies, twice as frantic. "We're just going to have to go to the hospital!"

"What's going on?" Veronica asks, the rest of the family filtering into the foyer from the family room. "Where are you going?"

"Emergency room," Toby says shortly and immediately, the room is up in arms.

"What? Why?"

"Daddy, I want to go with you!"

"Wait, don't just leave me here!"

"You're going to the ER now? On Christmas?"

"What happened?"

"Henry!" Grace exclaims finally. "What happened to your tongue?"

"I'll lick you with it like a doggie," He giggles. "It's so big!"

He laughs and laughs and then begins to cough, choking a bit, and Spencer pleads, "Henry, please, _please_ stop talking! This is very serious! You just need to focus on breathing!"

"I don't understand," Peter shakes his head. "What _happened?_ "

Spencer whirls around, her eyes slits, her gaze murderous. "What happened? _What happened?_ You tried to poison my son!"

"I did no such thing! Come off it, Spencer, I-"

"You gave him a chocolate-covered strawberry knowing perfectly well that he is _allergic_ to strawberries!" Spencer seethes. "Are you trying to kill him?"

"Spencer, I… I…" Peter shrugs. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I didn't mean to… I just forgot."

"You can't just forget!" She explodes. "How am I supposed to trust you with taking care of him if you can't remember a _simple thing_ that might kill him?"

"Peter, _you_ gave him the strawberry?" Veronica asks. "I have never been more ashamed of you."

"Veronica, I _didn't know_ -"

"We _all_ knew!"

"Daddy," Lilly asks, tears in her eyes. "Is Henry going to be okay?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Toby replies. "We're just going to make a quick trip to the doctor and he'll get some medicine and he'll be okay again. And then we'll come back here, have some Christmas dinner and open some presents like normal. Sound good?"

Hesitantly, she nods and then Grace asks, "Can I come with you?"

"Oh honey, you don't want to sit in the hospital on Christmas," Toby reasons. "Stay here for me? We'll be back as soon as we can."

A touch disappointed, Grace nods, too, and then Henry pipes up, a bit quiet, a bit strangled, "Mommy, I can't breathe."

"We're going. Just hang on, okay? Just try your hardest," Spencer says, stepping out of the door and towards the car. "In through your nose, right? Out through your mouth. Just like the doctor taught you. You're going to be okay."

Toby follows, unlocking the car, and from the house, Wren calls, "Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at him? I'm great with kids!"

The front door swings shut between them.

They drive twenty miles over the speed limit on the snowy roads and fishtail once, but they make it to the hospital in no time. Henry is seen immediately and they give him a shot to clear his airway and one to reduce the swelling, redness and hives, but then, they sit in triage for hours. Henry complains that he's bored in his new slurred speech and a nurse overhears and brings him a couple of Christmas coloring pages to busy himself with as they wait to be seen by a doctor. Toby and Spencer are watching him vigilantly from two plastic waiting chairs beside his bedside and Toby can just _feel_ the tension pouring off of his wife. She's stewing so hard he's surprised she hasn't yet boiled over.

He reaches over and slips a hand into his, saying gently, "He's fine."

"It's Christmas," Spencer says in return. "He's four years old and we're sitting in the emergency room on _Christmas_. This isn't fair. It's not his fault. He shouldn't be here."

"It's not your fault, either," Toby points out. "It was an accident. It shouldn't have happened but it did and it's something we have to deal with and move on from."

"We were too busy being preoccupied by Melissa's drama," Spencer shakes her head. "And if I had been with him… If I had seen what he was eating-"

"Spencer, you can't put this on yourself," Toby gently chastises. "It's no one's fault."

"It is! It's my father's fault!" Spencer disagrees. "I'll never forgive him for this."

"Spencer-"

"No, come on. He's allergic to, what? Three things?" Spencer reasons. "It's not a long list! How could he forget something like that?"

"It happens," Toby says. "I'm not saying I completely condone what your father did, but it also isn't like he did this on purpose."

Spencer bites her lip and tears come to her eyes. "What if he stopped breathing? What if he choked? I mean, we could've _lost_ him."

"No. Don't even go there."

"He's so _tiny_ and… and…"

"Don't," Toby replies. "He's fine. He's okay."

"Mommy, don't cry," Henry pleads and hands her his finished coloring sheet. "My doggie tongue is gone and I made you this 'cause it's Christmas."

"You did? Thank you, Hen," Spencer smiles, sniffling the tiniest bit. "It's beautiful. You did a great job; you stayed inside the lines and everything."

"Thanks," Henry grins and reaches for a new sheet, saying, "Daddy, I'm gonna make you one now."

"Ooh, thank you. I'm excited to see it," Toby grins, squeezing his wife's hand. "Do you see? He's _fine_. Now we just have to wait for a doctor to say it so we can get the heck out of here."

"It's almost seven," Spencer says. "I'm sure everyone's eaten by now. I don't have much of an appetite, anyway."

"Me either."

"I do," Henry chimes in. "I want mashed potatoes."

"Well, let's hope Grandma saved you some," Toby says. "It's been a _crazy_ day."

Between the chaos of Wren and Melissa's tumultuous marriage and the part where Henry, you know, _almost died_ , Toby's pretty sure he'd like this Christmas to be banished deep within his memories and never return to the surface. They sit motionless in the hospital for an additional hour before being seen by a doctor, who tells them Henry's fine and should be more careful next time (Spencer's about ready to commit murder because of course they'd _known this already_ , but Toby talks her down and they head back to her parents' house). The children are watching _Home Alone_ on the couch and they all get up to embrace Henry upon his arrival, but the youngster in question is interested in nothing but the food. Toby and Spencer don't have too much of an appetite, but they stomach a few bites before deciding to head on home. Veronica hugs and kisses each of her grandchildren and her daughter and son-in-law and Peter looks sheepish as he apologizes, once more, for nearly killing his only grandson (once again, Spencer looks ready to kill, and Toby ushers her away from the scene before this Christmas grows any more chaotic).

The children had been up since the crack of dawn, filled with excitement and Christmas cheer, and so it doesn't surprise either of their parents when they file, one by one, up to bed. Spencer breaks out the largest, most expensive bottle of wine they own and pours two glasses as Toby comes down the stairs. "I know we were saving this for a special occasion, but today _sucked_ and I need some good quality alcohol in my system right now."

Toby smirks. "Come here."

"Okay, you're right, 'sucked' is going a bit far," Spencer says. "This morning was incredible, but unsurprisingly, everything took a turn the second we got into Rosewood."

"No," Toby tugs on her hand, setting the wine glasses on the coffee table and leading her towards the staircase. "Come _here_."

She looks almost hesitant, that alcohol calling her name, but she follows anyway, her hand in his. He takes her down the hallway to Henry's room, first, where the little one is tucked in bed, already fast asleep. One of his arms is curled around a stuffed dog and the other is hanging off of the side of the bed, his blankets askew; he sleeps like a wild man. Spencer presses a kiss to his tiny forehead and is about to remark on the cuteness of it all, Toby's sure, but he shakes his head, halting her, and nods towards the hallway. Across the way, they push open Lilly's door and find her curled into the fetal position, still sucking her fingers even now, at six years old, and with hair covering her beautiful face. Her chest rises and falls and they push the hair out of her closed eyes, kissing her goodnight. And finally, they make their way to Grace's room, where the twelve-year-old is fast asleep on her stomach, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep, a habit she's picked up from her mother. They adjust her blankets and kiss her goodnight, too, before gently tiptoeing out and closing the door behind them.

"Holy crap," Spencer whispers. "Have you ever seen anything cuter in your life?"

"I have not," Toby agrees. "Our sleeping babes have always been the most adorable thing I could ever hope to see."

"Despite all the craziness, at least they still had a great Christmas," Spencer says. "And they're all _sleeping_. Right now. At one time."

"Sleeping kids?" Toby grins. "I'll drink to that."

"I would, too," Spencer points out. "Except you took my alcohol away."

Toby chuckles, bringing her closer, and saying, "Well, if you still had it, I wouldn't be able to do this."

He places a kiss on her lips and says, sincerely, "Merry Christmas, Spencer."

She grins and kisses him again. "Merry Christmas, Toby."

 _Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace…_


	12. to kids from one to ninety-two

**Good evening and Merry Christmas Eve! Here we are at the twelfth and final chapter of my Christmas hot mess express! (Don't mind me; I'm never satisfied with my own work) I mostly just want to thank you for taking the time out of your busy lives and hectic holidays to read and review my story. It means so much to me and I will never be able to express how much. Your unrelenting support is the best gift of all. :D**

 **Tonight's chapter is based off of "The Christmas Song." Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year and everything in between. I love you guys!**

* * *

and so i'm offering this simple phrase to kids from one to ninety-two

It's Christmas Eve and he wonders where all the time has gone.

They'd originally planned to move out of Rosewood the second she graduated high school, move off somewhere for a grand adventure, and start their brand new life together. It hadn't _exactly_ happened that way; Toby had left the force and gotten a more permanent job and Spencer completed four years of undergrad and had graduated still not one hundred percent sure about what she wanted to do. She's been working in the meantime and they're both pretty broke; she'd moved into the loft with him, but neither of them is really sure how long they'll be able to live here. He supposes they should probably propose a plan for what to do in the future and at times, they both feel the pressures to just get a move on with their lives already, especially when so many of their contemporaries are doing just that. But, as Toby tries to remind himself just as often as he reminds Spencer, it's okay to not have a concrete plan. It's okay to be twenty-three and twenty-four and not know _exactly_ what they're doing or where they're going in life. This year had been rough for everyone and when times were tough, he had a hard time remembering this, himself; he's glad to see this year end. But he knows that everything will work out in the long run and what's best is that, every now and then when she's feeling optimistic, Spencer believes this, too.

And so it's Christmas Eve and Toby feels as though this entire year had simultaneously dragged on and gone by in a flash. He'd had to work this morning, but now he's off for a glorious week and he's secretly envious that Spencer's off for two. He can just picture the cold, lazy mornings they'll spend in bed, the days full of quality time spent together and the nights in which they'll stay up talking and laughing and, honestly, kissing. They live together and see each other each and every day, but sometimes it feels as though they've gone weeks and weeks without contact, which is strange, really, considering they actually had, back when she was in school. Regardless, it's Toby's favorite time of year; Christmas has always been his favorite holiday, ever since he was a child, and he's always excited to celebrate it with the person he loves most in this world.

They're just leaving church and the sky has grown dark in their absence. Bits and pieces of different conversations linger through the air as they depart Christmas Eve mass and the carillon bells are chiming through the evening winter air. Attending Christmas Eve mass is one of his favorite traditions each year, because he'd always gone with his mother, growing up, and now he gets to go with another woman he loves more than life itself and he never fails to light a candle at the back of the church in his mother's honor. It's just one way for Toby to be assured that his mother is always with him in spirit. It had been a beautiful service, with Pastor Ted, their old family friend, preaching peace on Earth and goodwill toward men during this joyous holiday season and the choir singing beautiful carols to fit the mood. On the way out, they purchase a beautiful poinsettia from the Sunday school class, all proceeds benefitting their local charity, and head off down the street, a specific destination in mind.

There's snow on the ground but none in the air and Spencer shivers a bit from beside him, buttoning the final button on her pea coat. "Did it get colder since we were at mass? I swear, it's like the arctic north out here."

Toby smirks. "Probably. You're also the one who wanted to wear _that_ , though."

Spencer glances down at the bottom half of her dress, stockings and heels and asks, "What? I can't dress _up_ for Christmas Eve service?"

"No, please. Dress up. You look beautiful," Toby tells her and her eyes soften. "But you've got to be _freezing_."

She shrugs. "I'm not warm, no. But I wanted to look nice."

"Well, mission accomplished."

She grins at him and they come to a stop right outside the great stony building just past the church. Her grin lessens, just a tad, and she reaches out and takes the hand not holding the flowers and asks, "You ready to do this?"

Toby nods slowly and squeezes her hand for effect. They pull open the door to the mausoleum and step inside its icy chambers, navigating expertly down the hallways, only one destination in mind. They aren't the only ones here to share Christmas with the dearly departed; the hallowed halls of the mausoleum are filled with family members mourning the loved ones with whom they would not share the holidays this year. Toby comes to a stop right outside the cool marble of his mother's headstone and places the fresh poinsettia in the floral holder, discarding the dead hydrangeas from two months prior, the last time he'd visited. October of this year had marked the tenth anniversary of his mother's passing and it had been extremely difficult for him. He still can't believe, even now two months later, that it's been ten years, considering the pain and misery are just as fresh as they were the moment it happened. Spencer had been incredible that day, coming with him to visit her and giving him as much space and support as he needed and even crying with him when he was just too overcome with grief.

He doesn't know what he would ever do without her.

"Hi Mom," Toby says, exhaling heavily. "Merry Christmas."

Spencer's holding on tightly to his hand, her free one roaming up and down his forearm, and she, too, wishes, "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Cavanaugh."

This makes him grin despite the subject matter and he says, "I told you this before, Spence. I'm one hundred percent sure she'd want you to call her Marion."

"I know, but that just seems…" She trails off, shaking her head. "I don't want to disrespect her."

"You're not," He insists. "She was not a fan of my dad's mother and she wouldn't want to be likened to her by name."

"Fair enough," Spencer agrees. "But might I add that you still call my parents Mr. and Mrs. Hastings."

"Your parents still intimidate me, sometimes," Toby shrugs. "And I can guarantee you, my mother never would have done that to you."

Spencer shoots him a sad sort of smile. "Yeah. I'll bet she wouldn't have."

They stay with Marion for a few more moments before departing the mausoleum and heading back towards home. The air has quite the chill to it, now, and everyone still out is bundled from head to toe, their eyes and noses the only parts visible. As they round the corner, The Brew comes into sight, and Toby asks, "Spontaneous coffee date?"

Spencer's eyes light up at the prospect and she nods eagerly. "Do you even have to ask?"

He holds the door open for her and they both step into the warmth, rubbing their gloved hands together and shivering, still, as they join the line. Toby takes this opportunity to say, "Thank you for coming with me tonight to see my mom. I don't completely love going alone."

"Of course, Toby," Spencer returns, her eyes soft and sad. "I'll always go with you, so long as you want me there. I know the holidays are rough for you; I'm sure you both had a lot of traditions together."

"Yeah. She always had something up her sleeve," He smiles at the memory. "She always made it fun. I miss that."

"She was special," Spencer agrees. "I really wish I could've met her."

"Me too," Toby says. "I know she would've loved you."

They order, then, and Toby reaches for his wallet, but Spencer shakes her head, dropping a few bills on the counter and insisting, "My treat."

"It doesn't kill me so much to talk about her anymore, you know," Toby tells her as they walk towards the other end of the counter for pick-up. "You don't have to buy me coffee out of sympathy."

"That's not why I'm doing it," Spencer disagrees. "I can treat my love to a cup of coffee once in a while, can't I?"

He shrugs and she smiles and when the barista hands them their drinks, she warns them, "We close in an hour."

"Don't worry, Jen, we'll be out of your hair," Spencer holds her hands up in mock defense. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Jeez," Toby mutters under his breath as they choose the couch by the window, their favorite spot. "Someone isn't feeling the Christmas spirit."

"She never feels _anything_ ," Spencer points out. "She hates us."

"I don't know why," Toby wonders. "We're here everyday. We're like her best customers."

"Emily used to give us discounts when she worked here," Spencer says. "And Kelly's your- our?- landlord. Maybe she's just irritated or jealous or something."

"Our," Toby nods. "You can say it. It's our place, now, not just mine."

"It still feels weird," Spencer shakes her head. "It was just yours for so long and now that we share it… I don't know. It's just strange."

The bell over the door jingles and a couple enters, arguing. The girl seems to be in the middle of a sentence, for her voice trails over to them the moment they step through the door. "… and I'm legitimately _freezing_ my ass off, so let me at least get a cup of hot chocolate or something. My God."

"It's Christmas Eve!" The guy reasons, peeling off one of his many layers. "These poor people probably just want to get home to their families!"

"Right and so do I, but it was your idea to go on this _romantic Christmas walk_ and it's freezing so I need something to warm up!"

"You've got your love to keep you warm, babe."

"Don't start with that cheesy shit."

"Wait a minute," Spencer says, grinning wryly. "I know that voice."

At the register and with scarves and hats removed stand Caleb and Hanna, still bickering and oblivious to their friends seated just ten feet away. Toby chuckles. "Those two don't get along even on Christmas Eve."

"They're always bantering about something," Spencer agrees. "Han! Caleb!"

At this, the two turn and wave, and once they've ordered, they come to join their friends. "See Caleb? I'm not the only one who needed some coffee."

"That's nothing. We're talking about Spencer Hastings, here," He jokes. "This girl always needs her fix."

"Hey. Watch it," Spencer warns. "What are you two doing out and about?"

"Last minute Christmas shopping," Hanna says and Spencer's eyes widen. "I know, I know! But it isn't me. I mean, come on, I've been done since Thanksgiving. You think I was going to sleep on those Black Friday and Cyber Monday deals? No way. _This one_ on the other hand…"

"I forgot to get something for Ashley," Caleb admits sheepishly. "Can't forget the in-laws, can we?"

"So we've been arguing nonstop because he thinks he knows my mom," Hanna says. "But _I_ know my mom and she wouldn't be caught _dead_ carrying a Kate Spade purse. She is Balenciaga or no dice."

"Those bags cost more than our rent, Han," Caleb reasons. "And even if I bought one, we'd never get it in time."

"And we're back at square one again," Hanna sighs, sipping at her coffee. "What about you guys? Just slipping down for a little nightcap? Must be so nice to live above the coffeehouse."

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "We just got back from mass and we froze on the walk home, so we needed a little pick me up. Ted did a beautiful job tonight, by the way."

"Yeah, he's good," Hanna agrees. "We're going tomorrow morning."

"We'd better go, though," Caleb says. "The stores all close early and that barista is giving us the death glare."

"Plus, we've got to get to bed early if we want Santa to come," Hanna adds and Caleb rolls his eyes as Spencer and Toby laugh. "See you later, guys. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" They return and stand, too, downing the rest of their respective drinks. Toby asks, "Should we head out? Settle in for the night?"

"Yeah," Spencer agrees and stands, heading for the alley exit that would lead to his stairwell. Toby, on the other hand, heads towards the front of the store, and she asks, "Where are you going? It's quicker this way?"

"Nah, come on," Toby shakes his head. "I know a shortcut."

"You do not," She rolls her eyes. "Are you just suggesting we go this way because of the mistletoe over the door?"

"What? Mistletoe? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Toby feigns innocence and she smirks, stepping closer until she's right in front of him. He glances up at the sprig in the doorframe and remarks, "What the heck? How did that get here?"

"Kelly put that there December first," Spencer recalls. "Don't pretend you don't remember. We kept _accidentally_ ending up underneath."

"Mm," Toby says. "Remind me."

She steps a bit closer and brings his mouth down to hers, kissing him lovingly in the warmth of the coffeehouse. When they're through, she nuzzles their noses together and says, "You don't need mistletoe for a kiss like that."

"I don't need mistletoe for a kiss at all," He says, proving the theory by placing another kiss upon her lips. "But why waste the opportunity?"

She giggles and he grins and from across the room, the barista bangs something loudly against the counter, scowling. Spencer bites her lip and says, "I think _this_ is why Jen hates us."

"Yeah," Toby nods, taking her hand and stepping out into the cold once more. "You might be onto something, there."

They climb the stairs towards the loft and tumble across the threshold, unable to get out of the chilly, biting air fast enough. Pulling off all their layers, coats and scarves, hats and boots, they turn on the lights in their apartment and Spencer treads over to the window, where their tree is waiting, and plugs it into the wall. She smiles fondly at the sight and Toby smiles fondly at her; he'd insisted upon getting a live tree this year and even though at first Spencer had been hesitant ("We're way too busy for that!" She'd insisted. "Real trees are so much _work_."), she's grown to love it as much as he does. Their real clothes are discarded for lounge pants and sweatshirts at once, as they always are the moment they return home and can just _be_ again, and soon, the couple is cuddling comfortably on the couch, a Netflix Yule log on the television before them.

"This is the most festive thing we've ever done," Spencer says. "Baking cookies this morning, going to Christmas Eve service and watching a Yule log? We are Christmas as _hell_."

Toby chuckles. "Yes, until you called us 'Christmas as hell'."

"Ooh, you're right. I shouldn't have mentioned hell and Christmas in the same sentence," She replies. "It'll be nice, though. We can just take it easy tomorrow, sleep in, open some presents and relax until dinner."

"Speaking of presents," Toby says and reaches for his phone. "The Weather Channel has a Santa Tracker. Should we see where he is?"

"A Santa Tracker?" Spencer smirks. "Are you five?"

"Hey, he's on his way," Toby shrugs and thumbs through the app. "He was last seen in Monaco and is headed for Marseille in forty-seven seconds. He won't be here for a few hours yet. I think we're good."

"Okay, see, here's the thing that never made any sense to me about Santa," Spencer says. "Disregarding the fact that his handwriting is identical to my father's, it is physically impossible for one man to circle the entire globe in one night. Forget time zones, forget magic reindeer, forget-"

"Childhood?" Toby teases. "You were one of those kids who had to out logic Santa, huh?"

"Guilty," Spencer nods. "I found out when I was six. Not to mention I had a twelve-year-old sister, back then, who didn't give a fuck about what I thought and believed. She was all too eager to spoil it for me."

" _Six?_ " Toby exclaims, shaking his head. "That's way too early!"

Spencer shrugs. "It's fine. It just never made sense. You can't just have some random man breaking into people's houses to give you gifts! And reindeer don't fly, second of all, and how is he still alive if he's been doing this for hundreds of years? People don't live that long. It just never made sense. If you want to give your kids Christmas gifts, cool, but is the whole _Santa_ thing really necessary?"

"You are seriously no fun," Toby says in disbelief. "So you're going to tell me that some time in the future, whenever you have children, you're not going to perpetuate the belief in Santa?"

"Well… I don't know. I don't want to lie to them but I also don't want them to be singled out because I'm being weird," Spencer contemplates and then shakes her head. "Who am I kidding? I'm never having kids. I'd be a _terrible_ mother."

"What are you talking about?" Toby asks in surprise. "You're going to be an awesome mother. You care so much and you love so hard. That's all a kid needs, really."

Spencer still seems hesitant. "I don't know…"

"Come on, think about your kid," Toby urges. "She's tall and beautiful and brilliant just like her mother. She works hard and doesn't put up with anyone's shit and helps those in need. And at the end of the day, she'll come home and give her mother a huge hug, because they both need it."

"That does sound nice," Spencer smiles and then asks, a bit wistfully, "This child of mine… Is she yours too?"

Toby grins. "I like to think so."

She kisses him and he is overwhelmed with love for this beautiful girl. When they're through, he says, "That's enough Santa talk. Time to play Santa."

He disentangles himself from her and heads towards their bedroom as she calls after him, "Please don't dress up like Santa! I'm still mentally scarred from the Santa boxer incident!"

"You said you liked me in those!"

"I liked _you_ in those," Spencer confirms. "The others? Not so much!"

He laughs and when he returns to the living room, he has a bag full of wrapped gifts, all addressed to her. Spencer's eyes widen and she asks, "What the hell? Calm down, St. Nick."

Toby shrugs and begins to delicately place her gifts beneath the tree. "Hey, you must've been good this year."

She shrugs, too, and stands, reaching for the closet door. "It's fine. Two can play at this game."

He's filling her stocking when she returns and he grins, saying, "We're both going to start the New Year off in debt, I can see."

"Hey, it'll be worth it," She chuckles. "Giving gifts is so much more fun than receiving them."

He wholeheartedly agrees. It looks so incredibly beautiful now, with their stockings full to the brim and hanging over the countertop that's acting as their pseudo-fireplace and the tree's sparkling lights with wrapped presents underneath. The Yule log is playing a festive version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and he feels so incredibly warm and joyous at this very moment. Toby reaches over and slings an arm around his girlfriend, tucking her into his side and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. She hugs him right around the middle and murmurs, "I'm exhausted. Is it bad if we go to bed now? At nine-thirty?"

"We'd better get to sleep soon," Toby nods. "Santa only comes when we're asleep."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "Looks like he was already here, doesn't it?"

"Eh," Toby waves this off. "Well, we should definitely read _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_. It's tradition. My mom used to read it to me every Christmas Eve, right before bed."

"Mine too, actually," She grins at the memory. " _'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…_ "

He nods towards the bedroom as she yawns again. "Shall we go?"

She nods her agreement and they trudge into the bathroom to ready themselves for bed. After climbing beneath the covers, Toby yawns and asks, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Spencer wonders, snuggling closer.

"Ssh," He hushes her and whispers, "I'm pretty sure that's Santa on the roof."

"Toby, _Jesus Christ_ -"

"- is the savior of all mankind and that's what Christmas is really about. I know," He grins, finishing her sentence as she rolls her eyes beside him. "There's no age on it, you know. Christmas, I mean. I'll enjoy it this much until I'm ninety-two."

She asks, "And when you turn ninety-three?"

"Well, then I'll be a Grinch like you."

Spencer swats at him. "Wow. Merry Christmas to you, too."

"Merry Christmas, Spence," Toby replies and they're moments from sleep. "I can already tell it's going to be amazing."

 _Although it's been said many times, many ways, merry Christmas to you…_


End file.
